


The Place That You Call Home

by CD (thecollective)



Series: Second Chances!Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Anal Sex, Angst, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester, Boys Kissing, Canon Divergent, Canon Typical Violence, Charlie Ships It, Domestic Fluff, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, F/F, Frottage, M/M, Magical Realism, Minor Character Death, POV Dean Winchester, Sam Ships It, Smut, Team Free Will, They're in Oz, Top Castiel, Violence, blatant rewrite of Frank Baum’s fiction, but can be read as a standalone, f/f - Freeform, i am sorry for that a little, m/m - Freeform, pretend S10 never happened, second chances!verse, set in an alternate canon after S9, spoilers for Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 05:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5193401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecollective/pseuds/CD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorothy has gone missing and Charlie asks Sam, Dean and Cas to travel to Oz, a land ruled by mysterious magic, to enlist the help of a Dark Wizard and a Cobbler on their journey to the Emerald City. In order to save Oz from the Wicked Witch Elphaba’s revenge and find Dorothy, the hunters must learn to trust one another and the good intentions of strangers, in order to make their way home. This is a story of tragedy and friendship, but most importantly, the sacrifices we make for love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Grand Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> While this is part 3 of the Seasons!Verse, it can be read as a standalone. All you need to know is that D/C are in an established relationship. 
> 
> Visit Chapter 9 for Thanks and Stuff...
> 
> If you're feeling kind, please leave a comment and let me know what worked for you (or what didn't) in this piece. Comments, Kudos and words of encouragement are highly appreciated!
> 
> As always, I do not own these characters, I simply vow to love them with all my heart.

“Dean,” Castiel breathed the word against Dean’s neck, tickling the hairs there with his warm breath. Dean leaned back, relishing the feel of lean muscle against him; the angel curved around him in the middle of the bed they shared in the Men of Letters Bunker. Most mornings, Dean couldn’t believe that this was his life. After Cas had nearly stayed dead until Wovoka decided to bring him back, Dean took his own advice and went on an extended “break.” He worked on every third case or so with Cas and Sam; the rest of the time, Sam went out on his own or with Jody, Alex and Claire. Dean didn’t mind staying out of the action as long as he could still help, although that didn’t stop him from ganking a few supernatural sons-of-bitches when he got the chance. Still, with Cas by his side at the bunker, researching for other hunters didn’t seem that bad, especially when the angel did most of the heavy reading. They didn’t really know what to make of Cas’ super-grace, and opted to use it as little as possible, which meant he worked cases without his powers and blocking his own access to the grace. Dean and Sam trained him to fight without it, which was painful for everyone involved. Without access to his grace, Cas was slower, clumsier and somehow, more snarky. It took months of retraining muscle memory, lengthy demonstrations on weaponry, actual reading and memorization of spells before Cas was ready to go on his first hunt without touching his grace. During the in-between time, though, he became adept at manning the phones and spent hours answering the questions of younger hunters, who looked to his expertise in demonology as the end all and be all of research. Dean was proud of him. Hell, he was proud of all of them, if he was being honest. Sam had taken to Jody and Donna like a duck takes to older, hot mama ducks and between the three of them, American Midwestern monsters had no chance. Although he shouldn’t have been, Castiel was surprised to find out that the Winchesters could get along just fine without his powers. Dean reminded Cas that he did his part around the Bunker, and even if he couldn’t mojo their faces back together after a fight or fly willy-nilly across the world to find the sweetest organic honey on the planet, he still contributed to the household, and that counted for a lot. Dean made sure to remind Cas every day that he wasn’t useless without his grace. Most nights Dean was rewarded greatly for his efforts.

“Dean…” Cas repeated into his skin. This time, Dean turned his body to face the other man.

“Heya Cas,” he whispered. Dean moved to kiss his lips, gently pressing against his mouth, until he felt Castiel sigh and open up for him, tongue moving lazily against his own. They kissed as if it was the first time, hands moving across skin, needy and perfect.

“Cas…” Dean threaded his ankle in between Castiel’s, pulling the other man closer until they were flush against one another, nothing separating them underneath Egyptian Cotton sheets.

“I don’t wanna go anywhere, today,” he grumbled. Castiel hummed in response and reached out to nip at Dean’s jawline, laving kisses down his neck to his shoulder. Dean presented his neck to Cas, relishing the feel of teeth against skin.

“We’re supposed to be on the road by noon, according to Sammy,” he reached over and ran his fingers through Cas’ hair with a gentle touch.  “But I’d rather stay in bed with you all day.”

“Dean, you were the one who said we shouldn’t talk about work or your brother during sex,” Cas murmured. Dean hummed in agreement and watched Cas continue to work his way down, wrapping his expert tongue around Dean’s right nipple, then his left, catching every freckle, every inch of skin. By the time Cas reached his belly button, Dean had forgotten how to form sentences and had most certainly forgotten what they’d been talking about only minutes before.

Later, they met Sam at the kitchen table to discuss the Wendigo case while Dean fried up bacon and eggs for breakfast. Sam sat with his laptop open, searching the web for information about the attacks while Cas took down notes on the victims’ names, whereabouts and the common factors in the deaths and disappearances. Not one of them heard the sound of knocking or the footsteps on the stairs above their heads. In fact, each man was so completely engrossed in his own work, none of them noticed Charlie until she was right underneath them.

“What’s up, bitches?”

Sam jumped up out of chair, knocking it out behind him. He grabbed at his gun, which was on the table, and looked up at Castiel, who looked ready to smite somebody, angel blade in hand. Sam stalled when he saw the intruder’s face while Dean just stood there with a skillet in his hand, surveying the scene with amusement.

“Hey, Cas, wait! It’s Charlie. Cas, it’s cool,” Sam placated, pushing the safety back into position, placing his gun on the table and laying his hand on Cas’ bicep. He slipped the blade back into the ether, and the silver knife was gone as quickly as it came.

“Way to greet a girl! You’re the ones who gave me a key to the place,” Charlie teased. She turned to Cas and raised an eyebrow. “Last time I saw you, buck-o, you were much more, er, formal?” Dean watched as she took in Cas’ outfit--sweatpants; a ratty Led Zeppelin t-shirt with bare feet. Charlie squinted her eyes at him. “You’re a little old for sleepovers, aren’t you, boys?”

Dean knew she’d notice.

“Charlie, Cas and I, we’re kinda...er...”

“It’s about fucking time, Dean ‘I’m not gay’ Winchester. You are pretty dreamy, Cas,” Charlie joked, batting her eyebrows at Cas, who blushed and sat back down at the table to take a long, awkward sip of coffee.

Dean snorted.

“Easy, tiger. And it’s bisexual, you little shit. You want some bacon, or what?” he laughed and ruffled her hair. He’d missed Charlie. Having her around was like having that little sister he never knew he wanted but suddenly couldn’t live without.

“Ooh la la, mister fancy pants sexuality. And, yes, bacon sounds delicious, but I didn’t come here to gab about your angel boyfriend and eat pork products, although that sounds like an ideal vacation. I came because Oz needs your help.”

“As in the fictional country of Oz?” Cas asked.

“Is everything okay?” Sam inquired.

“Where’s Dorothy?” Dean demanded.

All three men spoke at once, but at the mention of her friend’s name, Charlie Bradbury, Queen of Moondoor and purveyor of general badassery broke down in tears. Dean handed his spatula and apron off to Castiel, who grabbed it and moved to his spot at the stove. Charlie sniffed and tried to choke out a laugh, but it turned into a sob. Sam raised his eyebrows and looked at Dean who wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her to the table to sit down next to Sam.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

Dean grabbed a chair, and sandwiched Charlie between himself and Sam, waiting patiently for the woman to catch her breath. After a few quiet huffs, she looked up.

“Dorothy’s been kidnapped and I need your help to find her.”

“Wait, what? I thought that you couldn’t go back to Oz? What gives?” Dean asked as he rubbed a soothing hand between her shoulder blades. He looked at Castiel, who stood at the stove, plating the breakfast Dean had cooked, brow furrowed, concerned eyes taking in the situation. When the bacon, eggs, toast and hashbrowns were on the table, Castiel sat down across from the Winchesters and Charlie, pushing a cup of coffee across to Charlie. She smiled up at him through watery eyes and mouthed a silent thank you before taking a sip of the steaming black liquid.

“What can we do, Charlie?” Cas asked.

“I haven’t been back, I swear. I thought my time with Dorothy and Oz was finished, but yesterday Glinda contacted me. She used some pretty powerful magic to conjure a way across the corporeal planes. Dorothy needs our help, guys. We’ve got to get to the Emerald City. Dean sucked in a breath at Charlie’s frantic expression and watched as her eyes darted between him, Sam and Castiel. “I didn’t know who else to ask...If I can’t get to her in time...will you come with me?”

Dean eyed Sam. Oz. The portal down in the basement hadn’t reappeared since Charlie left with Dorothy the first time, and they’d never attempted to cross over to an alternate universe before. The weird, Supernatural television show world without magic, well, they didn’t talk about that. **Ever**.

But this was Charlie. She hardly asked for anything and she needed their help. Dean looked over at Castiel, who nodded slightly, and then to Sam, who made the same gesture.

“Whatever it is, Charlie, you’ve got it,” Dean said, voice firm. “You’ve got us.”

After Sam called Sheriff Donna in Minnesota to warn her about the Wendigo, he called Claire at Jody’s, to ask her to check in on the Wendigo problem because they had to get their asses out of Kansas and into Oz.

“Yeah, Claire, Oz. No, I won’t bring you back a Munchkin,” Sam laughed at the request. “Your dads say hi, by the way,” he teased as Dean walked in the room. Dean blushed at the words and then weakly grinned, saying nothing. Since Dean and Cas’ quasi-retirement, they’d spent a few weekends up at Jody’s, just them and Claire. They’d gone mini-golfing, which Claire seemed to be freaky-good at, and camping, which Dean absolutely hated, and finally settled on star-gazing as a mutual interest. Cas had saved up money from hustling poker--which apparently he was freaky-good at--and purchased a $300 Celestron, partly-assembled, computerized, reflector telescope, which Claire kept at Jody’s. On the weekends Dean and Cas visited, they’d pack Claire and the telescope in the Impala, fill a cooler with food and drinks (soda for Claire, beer for Dean, green tea for Cas) and drive four hours to Merritt Reservoir in Nebraska, which happened to be the darkest and best spot for stargazing in the tri-state area, according to Castiel. In fact, they planned to head down to Sioux Falls with Sam this time to pick up Claire and then head to Nebraska for the Taurid meteor shower. Cas said it peaked the first week in November, and Sam was stoked to actually be invited, for once. Dean knew he wasn’t Claire’s dad, and neither was Cas for that matter, but every time they were together, it felt as if they were a family, a concept that stopped terrifying Dean only a short while back.

“Call Donna and then Garth, if you need backup, and we’ll see you in a couple of weeks. Pretty sure cell service doesn’t work in Oz, so we’ll call when we get back,” Sam said before uttering a few more encouraging words to Claire and hanging up the phone. He shook his head, mirth in his eyes when he turned to his brother.

“Kids, huh?” Sam laughed. “It’s hard to believe we’re the seasoned hunters around these parts. Used to be us running around out there saving people, hunting things. Now we’re the ones the young bucks call when they wanna know iron or silver.”

“They don’t appreciate us,” Dean drawled as he picked up a few extra salt rounds off of Sam’s desk and placed them in his pocket.

“Did we appreciate Bobby? Rufus? Dad?”

“Ain't’ that the truth?” Dean mumbled. “Anyway, I say take iron and silver, cause, well, ya never know, but what really helps is an angel who has your back.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I do not want to hear about your sex life, Dean,” he deadpanned as he moved out of his room into the hall.

Dean choked a laugh and took a swing at his brother’s shoulder, pushing him forward into the library, where Cas and Charlie waited. The air buzzed with tension as the four of them stood over the tableau Charlie and Cas had set up on the table. A large gold bowl he didn’t even know they had was filled with herbs and liquids that Charlie purchased according to Glinda’s specifications.

“When the last ingredient is added, we need to form a circle. I’m not sure how it works, but Glinda said to follow the darkness,” Charlie intoned. She pulled a folded cloth from the pocket of her satchel and opened it carefully, cradling something in her hand. Dean peered over Charlie’s shoulder and saw shards of metal, dozens of them.

“Is that?” Dean began.

“The remnants of a key to Oz,” Charlie nodded, and placed the thin metal pieces into the bowl. As soon as they connected with the ingredients, Dean felt his skin prickle and itch and he grabbed onto Cas and Sam, while Sam held onto Cas and Charlie, so as not to break the circle.

“Will we be able to get home?” Dean asked the question, suddenly aware of a shift in the energy of the room.

They watched as a large, green and black swirling cloud began to form in the cleared space between the tables. The smoky substance began to grow bigger and bigger, until it developed them and everything in the library, pulling books off the shelves and tossing papers in the air. Through the whir of noise, Dean could just make out Charlie’s voice.

“Is this a fucking tornado?!” she yelled. The tables shook and rattled as a funnel of wind began to form.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean grumbled as he tightened his grip on his brother and Cas. Together, they moved tighter into each other, bracing against the turbulence all around them.

“I don’t wanna die in a tornado in Kansas!” Charlie yelled. “It’s so cliche!”

“Isn’t a tornado customary travel to the land of Oz?” Cas projected over the high pitched whistle of wind. Books and papers began to fly within the twisting funnel, until it seemed the entirety of the Bunker library had been lifted off the shelves and tossed around the room. Dean slammed his eyes shut against the barrage of debris and paper, locking his arms with Cas and Sam, who did the same to Charlie. Hunkered down, all Dean could hear was the shrieking wind, above, behind and all around him. He peeked out of his eyelashes, cheeks scrunched up, hair flying wild and, he couldn’t see the walls of the room any longer. In fact, he couldn’t even see his brother or Cas or Charlie, although he could feel them pressed together, huddled on the floor. All he could see was the darkness. And then...silence.

When the dust settled, Dean couldn’t help the gasp that escaped his lips. “Holy shit,” he whispered, and reached for his side arm as thick air of the surrounding forest landed heavy on his skin. They were in Oz, and it didn’t look anything like the path Charlie and Dorothy had taken before. There was no Yellow Brick Road or looming castle in the distance, only dark and sinister woods all around them. Although disoriented, they moved in unison, with Charlie in the lead, slipping in between trees of the unknown forest with the ease of soldiers who had once fought on similar terrain. In fact, the foreboding silence reminded Dean a lot of Purgatory. He shuddered and glanced at Cas, wondering if the angel had the same thought.

“Are we anywhere near, you know, where that house fell on the Wicked Witch?” He asked.

“Not quite,” Charlie replied. She spoke in hushed tones, the weight of the forest causing them all to stand at attention, wary of each sound and movement.  “We had to apparate as far away from the Yellow Brick Road as we could, without leaving the safety of ally territory. This is the northernmost point of Munchkin Country, right on the border of Gillikins.”

“How far is the Emerald City?” Dean asked as he placed his handgun in his waistband and tugged out the machete instead. The foliage hung low, threatening to entangle the group if they were anything less than vigilant. Dean swung the blade out ahead of him, chopping at the hanging vines. Charlie didn’t answer. Instead, she stilled, placing a hand on Dean’s arm to stop him.

“We’re not going to Emerald City. Not yet, anyway.” She stopped. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Sam asked, squinting up into the treetops.

“The Flying Monkeys. We’re in their forest.”

“What!” Dean shrieked the word as quietly as he could. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he whispered, eyes darting to the greenery above.

“Keep it together, Dean-o. They’re not like in the movies. Oz has other sentient Animals, but the Monkeys are the ones with the bad rep, ‘cause of that damn movie. Since Elphaba got her hands on that goddamn Gold Cap…” Charlie trailed off when she saw the blank look of confusion on Dean’s face that closely mirrored the one on Cas’, while Sam continued to look smug and even a bit geeky, if Dean did say so himself.

“It’s all in the books, Dean,” Sam said with no further explanation.

“Well, that’s not the least bit helpful for me and Cas, now is it?”

“Dean, I think what they’re trying to say is that the animals you’re so scared of will not hurt us. They were mind controlled. Now, they are just normal, Flying Monkeys,” Cas offered and Dean glared at him, as if he was personally affronted Castiel might be taking the side of the Monkeys.

“First of all, I ain’t scared. Second of all, there is nothing normal about a Flying Monkey, Cas,” Dean grumbled. Cas placed his hand in the small of Dean’s back and whispered something that only Dean could hear. “Well, since you put it that way…” Dean leaned in for a quick kiss. Dean could almost hear Sam’s eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“You guys. The task at hand,” Sam interrupted. “Charlie, where are we headed?”

Charlie, who had remained silent through Dean and Cas’ bickering, looked back at her companions. “To the East and through to the other side of Gillikin Forest is where the Tower of the Dark Wizard lies. We see him first, then we continue on from there,” Charlie answered.

She moved again and Dean noted the dark circles under her eyes, the slump in her shoulders. His heart lurched. The life of a hunter meant you lost people. People you love. Dean knew better than anyone that, and even though it was expected, losing those you care about still hurt like hell. He whispered a prayer of thanks to whatever entity had imbued the angel with life one more time back at the Walker River a year ago. Dean snuck a look at his partner, who walked beside him through the forest of Oz, jeans tucked carefully into his boots, to avoid ticks, just like Dean had showed him, thick army jacket layered over a blue hoodie and a black henley. Cas had taken to dressing like Dean, now that he stayed in one place and couldn’t get along with just a single suit. Dean wondered, not for the first time, if Cas would begin to look older over the years. If they would be able to grow old together. They’d been lucky to make it out of Yerington alive and Cas coming out of the case with mysterious powers intact and _not dead_ had been a bonus Dean never expected. The fact that they’d fallen in love changed everything for Dean. He enjoyed the little makeshift family they’d created with Sam and Claire. Hell, now that the marriage equality bill had passed, he and Cas could get married, if they wanted to. And yeah, Dean _wanted_. He wanted it all and, the idea, instead of terrifying him, caused a small grin to tug at the corner of his mouth and eyes. He’d been such an idiot for years--waiting and wasting time. Castiel turned to look at Dean, caught his eye and smiled at him, expression indulgent and kind. Dean couldn’t help but beam back.

“So, what then, Toto? We’re off to see the Wizard?” He smirked and pushed forward.

Cas hummed, Charlie groaned and Sam mumbled under his breath, “So not funny, Dean.”

“Shardik owes me a favor and has valuable weapons we might be able to use,” Charlie answered, ignoring his totally hilarious pun. “Dorothy and her team went missing three days ago during a week-long perimeter check of the Four Lands. They didn’t check in, and then Glinda got word that Dorothy was captured by a militia faction associated with activity in Winkie Country. I volunteered to come back and help find her. Shardik may be able to help us. I killed the Wizard of Oz, guys. I’m in this,” Charlie finished, her voice pleading. The forest swallowed up the words, a canopy of green above them acting as a vacuum. No one spoke for a moment, and the cacophony of noise in the forest began to take shape all around them.

Finally, after a silent conversation of looks and eyebrow waggles with Sam that Dean knew even Castiel couldn’t interpret, he turned to Charlie. “This Dark Wizard; do you trust him?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment and then shook her head. “No, I don’t. But he owes me and, in Oz, that means he can’t just turn us away.”

“Then we’re with you.” They continued on the invisible path in silence until, after a few minutes, Dean stopped and turned to Charlie.

“It’s not your fault, you know.”

She didn’t answer him and they continued on their journey.


	2. The Blade of Karr

 

 

Charlie had traveled the path to the Dark Wizard’s Tower before, Dean was sure of it. She strode through the forest with confidence, even though there seemed to be no clear path. He was reminded of their time LARPing, and the confidence Charlie had had as Queen of Moondoor. She always did have her own style of confidence, Dean mused, silently trudging along behind his friend, Cas and Sam at his side.

After a while, Dean couldn’t be sure if hours had passed, or days. The scenery didn’t change, and the dim light that leaked through the forest trees hadn’t moved or shifted since they arrived. When he remarked on this strange sense of time, Charlie simply replied, “Time passes differently in Oz. Enchantment touches everything here, and you’ll see things you won’t believe exist. You’re seasoned hunters and all, but Oz messes with reality. Gets inside your head. Whatever we do, we have to stay together and remember the mission. We’re an extraction team. In, out, easy peasy, boys.”

Dean huffed. “It’s never that easy.”

As they approached the edge of the forest, trees began to thin out and the dense foliage was replaced with stony peaks. Dean could see it was now dusk, and above the horizon, almost indiscernible, was a large castle built into the side of the mountain, the only access a series of tiered shelves between ten and twelve feet apart. The building seemed to blend in and out of its surroundings, shifting color and texture in the setting sun, flickering lights in stone windows the only sign of life. Fastened to rocks by what looked like tattered twine were ladders in between each ledge, leading to the mouth of the structure, about 100 feet from the base of the mountain. To reach the castle, they would have to climb up the wall face to the edifice nestled in the cliffs. At this angle, Dean knew that they had to have been spotted as soon as they exited the forest. No way they would have the element of surprise. He didn’t particularly like the feeling of walking into a trap.

“Charlie, are you sure this is a good idea? You said you don’t trust this guy, but he owes you a favor? What’s that all about?” Sam asked and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Leave it to Sam not to pull any punches.

“We fought together, when I first came to Oz, before Elphaba destroyed the Emerald City.” She gazed up toward the castle and began to walk straight toward the mountain wall, stopping when she came to the foot of the first ladder. There were seven, each one about twelve feet high.

“He’s a one percenter. Ambivalent toward the people of Oz, mostly, but I saved his life,” she stated as she reached up to grab a rung on the rickety, wooden ladder. Charlie carefully stepped up to the first tier and looked over as Sam climbed up behind her, then Dean and finally, Castiel. The ladders were staggered and zigzagged across the mountain face, so that, to get to the next one, they had to shuffle ten or so yards across the thin ledge, scarcely big enough for a pair of feet. Facing inward, Dean pressed his chest against the rocks, grateful when he looked up to Cas’ outstretched hand. Together, they slid across the first stone, fingers barely touching.

“How did you save his life?” Cas asked Charlie, genuine curiosity in his voice as he squeezed Dean’s fingers. Dean supposed Cas asked the question in order to distract him from their imminent doom, but he might have asked to satisfy that permanent curiosity which comes from observing humans for millennia. Knowing Cas, it was probably both.

Charlie pushed herself up onto the second tier and scooted across the thin shelf to make room for Sam. Dean looked up from the first ledge and sighed a desperate sound, one that Cas ignored as he heaved himself up from the ladder behind Sam.

“Come on Dean,” he murmured, crouching down to reach out his hand. Dean was grateful but shook his head.

“Nah, man. You’ll lose your balance. I’ve got this.” Dean hated heights, but he pulled himself up, moving across the second tier toward the third ladder with determined steps.

“Regale us with your tale, Charlie,” Dean said through grit teeth. He tried to smile but was pretty sure it looked more like a grimace. “Distract me.”

“You’re doing great, Dean,” she encouraged before reaching for the rungs of the third ladder. “Dark Charlie was going to kill him. We were in battle and she believed that, even if Shardik collaborated with us at the moment, it was only for convenience. She argued that he would eventually turn against us because he fought only for himself.” Charlie gazed up toward to castle. They couldn’t see it, but knew it was there, a few hundred yards above them. “Maybe she was right. On the battlefield, she saw a chance to kill Shardik and I felt her determination coursing through me as she went to attack.” Charlie raised her shirt to reveal a raised pink scar on her abdomen, about three inches long.

“I stabbed myself and she went down. We both did. Shardik escaped to fight another day.” Charlie pulled herself up to the fourth tier. “He owes me a life debt. He can’t turn us away and he wouldn’t dare harm me. That’s bad mojo in Oz and he doesn’t want that.”

“But he can harm us?” Sam asked. Charlie slid across the ledge to the fourth ladder before she answered.

“He can, but he won’t. Probably.”

“That’s encouraging,” Dean grumped, moving up the ladder behind Castiel, holding onto a rhythm in order to keep his cool. _Charlie, Sam, Cas, me. Twelve rungs up to the shelf. Shuffle across. Charlie, Sam, Cas, me. Twelve rungs up to the shelf. Shuffle across. Charlie, Sam, Cas, me…_ He didn’t look down.

“And you’ve visited this castle before?” Castiel asked, interrupting Dean’s thoughts. Charlie pushed herself up onto the final ladder and paused to look back at the rest of the group.

“I lived here, for a short while,” she said, pulling her blade from it’s casing. “We should have our weapons handy.”

“What happened?” Dean asked. He was the last one to step onto the highest rock ledge, where the door to the Wizard’s Tower loomed above them. Only then did Dean dare look. It was made of what looked to be a single large stone, but, if examined closely, were really two flush doors with jambs invisible to the eye. The color of the stone matched so well with the mountain side, the doors had not been visible from the valley floor and were barely noticeable up close. Surrounding the entryway, etched into the mountain face was an inscription in a language Dean did not recognize.

“I thought all of Oz spoke only one language, Charlie?” Sam asked as he traced his fingers across the foreign words. The script was all loops and lines, some small some large, with breaks in between what Dean supposed were separate words.

“This is the Olde Tongue,” Charlie murmured. “Dorothy taught me a few words, but most citizens of Oz don’t remember it. It’s basically a dead language in the Four Countries.”

“Why did you come here, Charlie? Before.” Dean pressed. She was avoiding his question, he realized. “No secrets, Charlie. Why were you at the castle?”

Charlie idly twisted the thin blade she held, caressing its edges. The metal tip was about six inches in length with a handle made from dark cherry wood. On the blade were intricate carvings and lettering Dean recognized as similar to that on the stone above. When Charlie lifted the weapon near what looked to be a type of rudimentary keyhole, the writings began to glow a fuzzy, purple hue.

“Charlie, is that a key?” Cas gasped.

“I stole it from him. The Dark Wizard. I didn’t know it was a key until much later. Dorothy explained to me that, when the Blade of Karr is in the vicinity of its place of forging, the words with glow with the Fires of the Four Countries. By uttering the hidden words in the Olde Tongue, the bearer may enter in to any Karr temple.” Charlie moved the Blade away from the door, tucking it safely into her belt and pulled out another weapon, a beautiful _katana_ sword she had sheathed in a dark case on her back since she arrived at the Bunker. Dean took a moment to admire the sleek blade and wondered aloud when his geeky friend had become a ninja.

“What do you mean, you stole it?” Cas asked, his voice low as he squinted, looking up to the sky above. Thunder clapped and the clouds, which had steadily darkened as they climbed the side of the mountain, finally broke. Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder, a slight move but it made Dean, Sam and Charlie all pause. _They needed a plan._ In their rush to get to Oz and the Dark Tower, and they hadn’t yet figured out what they could do to help Charlie and now was a good a time as any to find out. Without hesitation, Dean followed Cas to the mouth of a small, dark space. Cas pressed his back against the wall of the cave, moving aside to let the others step in. Sam and Charlie followed, shuffling across the ledge to a large cavern, large enough to accommodate Sam’s height and protect the four of them from the brewing storm outside. Dean wondered if the rain in Oz was the same as the rain in Kansas. When it hit the shoulders of his jacket and began to soak through to his skin, he knew that it was.

The first time Charlie saw the Blade of Karr, the knife sat underneath a glass case in Shardik’s study, which was more of a vast library containing all the histories of Oz. Shardik was a collector and a shrewd business man. He traded with all of Oz; the rulers of Gillikin, Winkie, Munchkin and Quadling Countries all respected and feared the Wizard. Not one of them dared go up against his magic.

“Dorothy needed him to join our side in the Great War,” Charlie explained. “He’s a good negotiator and knows the politics of Oz, but it was the weapons in his arsenal that made him so valuable to Dorothy. He only allowed us access to certain pieces, but Shardik trained me with knives. I was drawn to the Blade, and Shardik knew it. He said that the Blade sensed my desire and that it would work its own magic to end up in my hands. I didn’t believe him, but I wanted it to happen.” She looked down at the palms of her hands, studying them.

“Even now, I couldn’t tell you if I stole it because he expected me to or because I wanted to. I never planned...It was a misunderstanding,” she balked, voice picking up speed and pitching higher.

“Shardik said we could choose whatever weapon we connected to. He just didn’t want to give it up when I picked the Blade while he trained me in Khar-al-Khan.” Charlie took in their confused faces and quickly explained. “Dark Weaponry of the Keepers. Fighting with knives and spells. It’s devious stuff. The Blade of Karr was the Wizard’s prize possession. Karr-al-Khan focuses a fighter’s energy into a weapon’s framework. The Blade is the strongest of them all and picks its bearer. It picked the Dark Wizard,” she said. “A long time ago.” Charlie shuffled closer, pressing into Dean’s arm. When he realized she was shivering, he tugged off his jacket and placed it on her shoulders. She looked up at him and smiled slightly before continuing with her story.

“He trained me to use Karr-al-Khan because it is _part_ of Oz. It _is_ Oz,” she emphasized. “The Witches use primitive alchemy, but the Keepers,” she paused, choosing her words carefully. “The sorcery is a syncretism of old magic. With powerful objects and spells that allow the practitioner to harness the powers of chaos in order to...alter reality.”

Sam began to nod vigorously and Dean recognized that look. It was his, “I’ve got a geeky question, teacher, please pick me” look.

“Spit it out, Sam,” Dean deadpanned.

“This sounds like Chaos magick,” Sam offered.

“I agree,” Cas said and, not for the first time, Dean wondered how he got saddled with two, no, make that three, of the biggest nerds in this universe or the next.

“Chaos magic?” Dean asked and Sam, once again, nodded, his moist hair flapping in the wind.

“Magick with a “C” _and_ a “K”, Dean,” Sam corrected, as if he knew Dean had been thinking the word improperly spelled.

“What is chaos magick?” Dean prodded. “What makes it different that what we use on, say, demons or ghosts?”

Before Sam could answer, Cas cleared his throat and Dean knew that he was in for a lengthy lecture from Professor Trenchcoat. Between his brother, his partner and Charlie, Dean knew way too much about stuff he didn’t give two shits about unless it had to do with a case. He begrudgingly added _Chaos magick with a “C” and a “K”_ to the growing list.

“The theory of Chaos magick states that belief is an active magical force. It emphasizes flexibility of indoctrination and the ability to consciously choose one's beliefs. The practitioner uses what Christians would call _faith_ as a tool rather than maintaining it as an unchanging part of one’s personality,” Cas explained.

Charlie’s eyes widened and her hand flew to cover her now gaping mouth. “Yes, that’s exactly Karr-al-Khan,” she gasped. “How did you…?”

“Chaos magick utilizes the trance state, which allows one to achieve a deep state of inhibitory gnosis in order to focus energy on a specific point within or outside of one’s self. Similar practices actually date back to the mystery religions pre-dating the Greek Dark Ages,”  Cas paused and Dean rolled his eyes. If Cas was aiming for “dramatic effect”, it was working. Charlie and Sam hung on each word as carefully as they had grasped the rungs of the wooden ladders that led them to the top of the Wizard's mountain.

“I happen to know for a fact that initiates of the Eleusinian Mysteries used both inhibitory and exhibitory gnosis in order to reach pure, mystical enlightenment.” Cas shrugged, as if his historical ramblings should be common knowledge with all postmodern magic practitioners and how could the Winchesters _not know this already_?

“Inhibitory what now?”

“Trances versus sex, Dean,” Sam drawled. “Charlie? You didn’t, I mean, did you ever...?”

“Ew, no, Winchester! There were no magic orgies, if that’s what you’re asking. Shardik taught me to meditate in order for the Karr-al-Khan connection between weapon and bearer to fortify,” she admitted. “I guess we focused on the inhibitory gnosis, or whatever.”

“Tough break,” Dean waggled his eyebrows and laughed, which made the joke most definitely worth the elbow to the ribs Cas gave him.

“Charlie, may I see the blade?” Cas asked.

Charlie reached in her waistband and pulled out the silver weapon. The lettering on the blade seemed to dance and move in her hands, but stilled when Cas took ahold of it. He examined the handle closely, peering at it in the dim light of the cave until Dean thought to pull out a flashlight for better visibility.

“This is a very powerful weapon,” Cas observed.

“I can’t access all the magick without the manual. Which is why we need Shardik’s help and his book of spells. With just one blade, we can defeat the armies of Oz and wipe out the evil that has plagued this land for so long.” She grinned. “It’s like the one ring, but less _Hobbit_ , more _Kill Bill_.”

“Sweet,” Dean said.

“It’s actually not sweet at all, Dean,” Cas replied, handing the knife back to Charlie. “The person who wields this weapon at its full capacity must be very strong.” He looked at Charlie. “And very brave.”

“Well, that’s not ominous,” Charlie answered, sheathing her weapon and peering out into the darkening night. With the onslaught of the storm, sunset had come and gone without notice and outside, rain fell in sheets that reminded Dean of summer storms in Kansas. He watched the trees they’d spent all morning trudging through sway precariously in the blustering wind and wondered if it stormed like this often in Oz. The sky lit up with a bolt of white light and shook with thunder and Dean couldn’t help himself; goosebumps broke out all over his arms and the back of his neck. He had always been a little terrified of thunderstorms. The uncontrollable and vastness of nature overwhelmed him and, in spite of the terrifying monsters and villains he fought on a daily basis, Dean felt his heart pounding in time with each thunder roll above them. It was the steady reassurance of Castiel’s hand on the small of his back that brought Dean back to the moment. Castiel grounded him, and Dean felt grateful for it. As the storm began to swell and then recede, Cas moved closer; into Dean’s space, shoulder to shoulder, warming him while Charlie went over the layout of the castle and her strategy for dealing with Shardik. When the rain finally stopped, Dean, Cas, Charlie and Sam stood outside the looming castle door, waiting for Charlie to tell them their next move. She shrugged, gave Dean back his jacket and then mumbled a short incantation he could not understand. The rocks began to shift and move, until a bright light shone from the inside of the mountain. Charlie turned toward them and Dean could barely make out her face, even in the new light coming from deep inside the rock.

“Best behavior, boys, but keep your weapons close,” she whispered as the doors stilled with a loud bang and crunch.

“Fuck, Charlie.” Dean answered, squinting into a long, dimly lit hallway ahead, leading them deep into the heart of mountain. “What the hell are we walking into?”


	3. The Dark Wizard

Shardik was waiting for them, his not-so-stealth intruders, when they stepped through the front door, hat in hand and all smiles and welcomes. He did not ask them why they were there, only insisted that they clean up before dinner, and then disappeared into his study, which, of the glimpse Dean caught before the doors shut behind him, looked a lot like a museum of foreign artifacts. They were led down a stone corridor and a spiral staircase that seemed to continue down into the depths of the castle with no end in sight.

“Well, this is creepy,” Dean mumbled when the servant who led them veered off the stairwell onto a floor that held one large living area with four bedrooms, bathing facilities, a library of ancient looking tomes and a music room.

“Thank you, Kree,” Charlie spoke to the tall, thin man who had silently walked them through the castle.

“Ma’am,” was all he said before bowing and turning to leave the room. Dean could hear his feet clanging on the metal steps in the ceiling above and wondered what the hell they were doing in what felt like a plush, underground prison.

“Okay, Charlie. We made it and he didn’t kill us on sight. What’s next?” Sam asked as he plopped down onto a chaise lounge and dust billowed up around him. He coughed and waved at the flying dust bunnies, swatting at his nose and cursing his allergies before settling back onto the seat. “He’s got us holed up in the fanciest dungeon I’ve ever seen,” Sam motioned around the room. “And he doesn’t even know what we want yet. Are you sure he’s going to honor his debt to you? He might just keep us down here, especially if no one knows where we are.”

Dean nodded. He’d seen _Human Centipede_. Fuck that.

“Glinda knows we where we are,” Charlie assured Sam and began to survey the room. “I lived here for a year, Sam, and I’m nosy.” She smirked. “We’re in the music room, which means there are three floors above us. Shardik has asked us to dinner, so I’d say we have about twenty minutes before Kree comes back down here to fetch us. Let’s set up the room with weapons and check escape routes. Tonight we are going to get from Shardik a very special history book.”

“Think he’ll give it to us?” Sam asked.

“Not without something in return.”

“Such as?” Sam wanted to know.

“That,” Charlie paused. “That I don’t know. A favor for a favor, in Oz. That’s how it works. A task completed is a task earned, the old saying goes.” Charlie picked up her bag and walked toward one of the bedrooms. “Let’s get cleaned up. Time to turn up the charm and get that book.”

“Can’t we just steal it?” Dean asked, tugging at the collar of one of two surprisingly well-fitted suits that had mysteriously appeared on his and Cas’ bed after they emerged from the shower. Sam and Cas were also wearing dress clothes that seemed to be straight out of a 1920s silent film, complete with cummerbund, bowtie and shiny black shoes. Dean felt ridiculous, but Cas somehow managed to look comfortable and sexy, even if the tux was a far cry from his usual oversized trenchcoat or the flannel wardrobe he’d adopted after his time with the Winchesters. Placing his hand on Cas’ shoulder, Dean squeezed and then feathered his fingers down Cas’ back, teasing at the fabric, finally wrapping his hand around Cas’ wrist. Castiel looked over at him and flipped his palm up and Dean entangled their fingers together. Hand in hand, they followed Charlie up the winding staircase, back to the level that held Shardik’s study.

“I can’t do that to him,” Charlie admitted. “Not again. We’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“And how’s that?” Sam questioned from behind his brother.

“We ask.”

“Shit, Charlie, if we ask and he says no, what then?”

“There are spells in that book that will fortify the connection I have with the Blade through Karr-al-Khan,” She paused to look at Dean. “I need it in order to fight at my full potential in Oz. It’s nothing like the First Blade and the Mark. The power will work only as long as the bearer desires it too. When you sever the tie, it’s broken.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Still, he’d learned from the Mark of Cain that powerful magic requires a heavy sacrifice. They weren’t going to get out of this without giving up something of their own, and he would be damned before sacrificing any of their group for a weapon’s edge on the killing field.

“What’re we talking here, in terms of give and take? This wizard’s not gonna let us roll outta here without paying for this book, is he?” Dean looked back at Sam, who nodded his agreement and added,

“Is he pissed at you, Charlie? For taking the knife?”

She looked at Sam, eyes thoughtful and nodded. “Less pissed, more betrayed. But, to be fair, the honing spell on Karr weapons only work if the bearer has a true connection to their purpose and their weapon of choice. Shardik let his connection with the Blade of Karr fade. When I came here, the Blade actively chose me. Just as the bearer may sever connection between herself and the weapon, so can the weapon,” she added as her fingers swept across the knife handle, and tucked the piece into the pocket of the black waistcoat she had found hanging in the closet in her perfect size. “The Blade didn’t want him anymore and he’s the last of his line. It wanted me.” Charlie shrugged. “I saved him from Dark Charlie. He owes me a life debt.” Charlie stilled at a door that Dean assumed led to the dining room. When she turned to look at them, there were tears in her eyes. “I thought my betrayal had turned him away from Oz for good. If he will actually help us,” she sniffed. “Then I can get to the Emerald City and find her...”

Dean frowned. “I thought you said the Emerald City had been destroyed."

"But Elphaba uses it as her base camp, and she'd want Dorothy close."

Dean sighed and nodded. "We're with you, Charlie."

“Whatever you need,” Sam added.

“We’re here,” Cas finished.

The corners of Dean’s mouth turned up as he reached out to wipe a tear of Charlie’s cheek with his thumb. She smiled back, tentatively at first and then wider as Sam and Cas gathered around her, each of them placing a hand on her back and shoulders before they pushed open the door and moved inside the room.

The dining hall in Shardik’s castle looked like something out of a _Harry Potter_ movie, Dean mused as he noted the exits, the meal and number of wait staff. Spread across a long, wooden table, with seating for at least twenty, were place settings, food and decorations covering the entire dining set. On large silver platters sat steak, chicken, fish and a suckling roasted pig surrounded by plates of cookies, creams, pies, cakes and fruits, plus fresh vegetables and sprigs of green everywhere. From the ceiling hung three large crystal chandeliers that lit up the room with a soft, orange glow and there were candles everywhere. Shardik, who they had not seen since they arrived, stood at the head of the table, wearing a suit similar to that the boys wore, except attached to the shoulders was a long, purple cape that lay across his shoulders and fell down to the ground below. He wore a tall matching hat, very _Abraham Lincoln,_ if Dean was making comparisons, and black gloves that he took off and handed to Kree, who stood behind his master. When Shardik was situated, he looked around the table at Dean, Sam, and Cas, his hazel eyes finally falling on Charlie, who stood at the other end of the long dinner table.

“Be seated,” Shardik said, hushed voice echoing off the granite walls of the dinner chamber in the silence of the room. Dean watched Charlie and when she sat, so did he, followed by Sam and Cas.

“Thank you for having us, Shardik. We appreciate your hospitality,” Charlie began. “These are my friends from Kansas, um, Across-The-Desert.” She pointed next to her. “This is Sam and Dean Winchester, of the, uh, House Winchester. They are hunters of evil, fighters of the faith and to be trusted.” Next, she motioned to Cas. “This is Castiel, of the, uh…”

“House Winchester,” Dean provided.

“House Winchester, yeah, and he is also a hunter of evil and fighter of the faith. Castiel is to be trusted.”

Shardik’s bright eyes sharpened. He examined the group with open wariness while his servants served the food. The Winchesters, Charlie and Cas watched as meats and vegetables were heaped onto their plates, and, when the servants finally settled back into their spots against the wall, Shardik announced in a firm voice,

“Eat.”

Without preamble, Dean began to pick at his plate and the goodies served, motioning his brother and friends to do the same. Who was he kidding? Dean was starved and his brother and boyfriend--hell, anyone within a ten-foot radius--could hear his stomach growling.

“What is it you want, Charlie?”

At that, Dean went still, fork poised above a fruit pastry that looked suspiciously like pie that he’d asked the server to add at the last minute. His eyes flickered over to his brother, then Cas, and finally Charlie, to whom he gave a barely-there nod. When Dean turned to face Shardik, the man was looking right at him.

“Perhaps a better question would be, why are you here with the brothers and Sir Winchester? What would Charlie the Brave, fighter of wars and bearer of great Kharr-al-Khan weaponry need with these wayward travelers, travelers whom she has personally vouched for in my presence? Perhaps you, too, are soldiers?” He narrowed his eyes, shifting his glance to Sam, then Cas. “Yes, you are soldiers, aren’t you? You have fought together, then? You Winchesters and Charlie?”

“We have,” Dean answered, eyeballing the fruit pastry. _Fuck it._ He took a bite, licking the berries off his fork. “Damn good pie in Oz,” he mumbled, side-eyeing Cas, who raised an eyebrow at him and began to eat off of his own plate. Sam and Charlie did the same.

“You trained her first.”

“I did.”

“She’s good.”

“She is,” Dean acknowledged around another bite of pie.

Shardik sat back in his chair, finally reaching for a glass of wine at the edge of his plate. He twirled the liquid around before closing his eyes and sipping at the dark alcohol slowly.

“Charlie’s the best student I’ve ever had. She came into battle with a skill unsurpassed in Oz, or at least unseen in a very long time.” He paused, swirled the liquid in his glass again and took another sip. “So what is it you need from me, Charlie? What makes you dare come into my realm when, the last time you were here, you stole from me?”

“Shardik,” she blanched. “You know it chose...”

“Yes, yes, I know. You also know that you had an option to not steal from me,” he said, his voice raising at the end for the first time all evening. Dean could see the lines around Shardik’s mouth thin and waver, a tightly held anger simmering beneath the surface, holding, waiting for something. The truth, probably.

“I need your help,” Charlie admitted, raising her own glass, sniffing exaggeratedly and then taking a sip of wine. “You are a Keeper. You can still help Oz. I have the blade now; it chose me and I chose it. But you know I can’t finish my work here without the book.”

“Ah, the truth, finally,” Shardik murmured, raising his glass to the people around his table. “Eat, eat! Don’t let this food go to waste. We will talk terms after dinner. While the book is precious to me, what use have I for a tome separated from its purpose? I will give it to you, Charlie, for a price, of course,” he finished, picking up a large turkey leg off his plate and tearing into it with his teeth, looking very pleased with himself. It put Dean on edge, but he was hungry just the same, so he sighed in resignation, grabbed an hors d'oeuvre off his plate and winked at Charlie. Never let it be said that Dean Winchester let a good meal go to waste.

“What?” he asked Sam after he stuffed what looked like a fried, very crispy and delicious meat product into his mouth. “I eat when I’m nervous.”

Cas chuckled and plucked a small, green vegetable off his plate and popped it in his mouth. Just like that, the moment of tension broke like a dam. The truth, laid out for all to see, was the only advantage they had. If surviving Oz meant relying on the others so that they might rescued Dorothy, and return home safely, then Dean planned to keep on the yellow brick road, so to speak, and stay the path of the _Sir Winchester_ Charlie had so eloquently described. Shardik hadn’t said no, and that was good, right? What begged the question, was, what would the Wizard want for his assistance?

In the library, Dean watched his geeky brother and cute, but geeky boyfriend marvel at the books in Shardik’s collection. Dean found he much preferred to peruse the weapons that lined the shelves and glass cases of the room. He studied the many different types of blades and bludgeoning tools in Shardik’s cases, a dagger catching his eye. The four-inch blade was made of a dark titanium with six aerodynamic jellybean-shaped holes cut into the metal. The knife started out wide at hilt, but curved and thinned into a sharp point at the end, almost like the talons of an eagle, if an eagle’s nails split apart at the base and then broke into three separate blades in a masterpiece of welding and metal work.

“Ahh, the Vector Dagger, one of my most deadly pieces,” Shardik spoke from a dark burgundy chair in the corner of the room. He sat smoking a cigar, his jacket and hat draped over the back of it.

“It’s beautiful,” Dean admitted, lightly trailing his fingers over the glass encasing the dagger.

“The blade is made of titanium.”

Dean nodded. He had figured.

“The serrated edges at the hilt dig into it’s target, much like an arrow’s broadhead, making it impossible to remove the knife from skin without,” he paused and raised a single eyebrow. “Immense destruction. The whole article weighs less than 100 grams,” he looked thoughtfully at Dean. “This is one of the Karr-al-Kahn pieces forged by my ancestors. To wield this weapon is to wield immense power.” Shardik finished, puffing thoughtfully on his cigar. “And with the book of spells?” He said the sentence like a question, as if he wasn’t sure of his topic, his voice lilting at the end. Dean heard the words and felt as if Shardik had risen from his chair in the corner to whisper this secret knowledge directly into Dean’s ear. He could even feel the man’s warm breath against his cheek.  “The Vector Dagger can be honed to a suitable bearer, albeit a violent one. With the right training…”

“Not a chance, Shardik,” Charlie interrupted. “Dean is currently residing in domestic bliss and finding his Zen with that tall drink of water over there.” She nodded to Cas, who was watching the exchange with a wary eye. “And he doesn’t need a new knife, do you, Dean?”

Dean looked at the Vector Dagger, noticing the light shining off the small portion of the blade handle that shone stainless steel. He had the inexplicable urge to wrap his fingers around the handle and feel the sturdy metal against his skin. Without realizing it, he had moved closer to the box and placed his hands on either side of the container, as if to lift the protective glass and the knife from it’s stand.

“Dean.”

Cas’ voice snapped Dean out of his reverie and his eyes gradually focused on the angel, who stood next to him, body still and poised, book in hand.

“Naw,” Dean answered, his voice thick and strange to his ears as he turned away from the Vector Dagger to gaze at Shardik, who wore a smirk on his face, and who hadn’t moved from his seat. “I don’t need another knife.”

“No,” Shardik sighed. “I don’t suppose you do.”

“What we need is that book,” Dean bit out. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to get out of this room, away from this bizarre collection and even more bizarre wizard. On the other side of the library, Sam sat, a bevy of books laid out before him. Sitting hunched over a large text with red leather binding and gold edging on the thin vellum paper. From his vantage point, Dean could just make out strange images of beasts and what looked like fairies (angels?) alongside foreign writing much like that on Charlie’s knife and the door on the ledge. Sam’s lips were moving, but no sound came out and, while Dean recognized the look of concentration on his brother’s face, he didn’t like it.

“Ahh, yes, the book. Let us talk terms,” Shardik began, standing from his perch and moving toward the shelves that housed hundreds of texts, all different sizes, with various type covering their spines. “I need a second.”

“Take all the time you need,” Dean said.

“No, Dean, he needs a second reader,” Charlie spoke dully. “A Keeper apprentice to assist in the reading of spells.” She glared at the Dark Wizard, and for the first time that evening, Dean could see open hostility on her face. “I told you I wasn’t interested, Shardik, and you can’t force me.” She turned to Dean. “An apprentice must give consent to the master, or the relationship is null and void.”

“Oh child, not you.” Shardik turned to Sam, who sat at a large wooden table, much like the one they had in the library at the Bunker. Dean felt cold dread wash over him as he realized who it was Shardik wanted as his apprentice. “Him.”

“No way,” Dean bellowed, voice louder than he intended, and tinged with fear. “I won’t leave my brother with you. We don’t even know you.”

Sam looked between Dean and Shardik, eyes finally darting to the books on the table and in his hands.

“But your friend does. Charlie,” Shardik turned to look at the girl. “Tell the Winchesters what a benevolent master I am. Sam Winchester, let me share my history with you. You will leave my castle knowledgeable in the art of Karr-al-Khan. The whole of Oz will wonder at your skills,” he continued, when he saw a small flicker of interest in Sam’s eyes. “You will help your friends and be a hero,” Shardik finished. Dean watched as Sam straightened his spine, held his head high and proud, his mind made up.

Charlie turned to Dean, her expression thoughtful. “Shardik and I were once allies. He needs the leaders of Oz’s government to remain in power so that he can maintain his monopoly on weapons and weapons training,” she admitted. “If he promises to release Sam from his apprenticeship at an agreed time and swears not to glamour him in any way, I mean…” she trailed off before adding, “We won’t even get to the borders for at least two days.”

“I only want to help your plight,” Shardik murmured. “If the Winchesters cannot find it in their hearts to trust me, how am I supposed to trust you? I offer access to my research, my life’s work, and yet when I ask for assistance to work this Karr spell meant to help the people of Oz, you deny me. Two days of research and readings, so that your brother may help you on the Road to the Emerald City.” Shardik’s eyes narrowed. “I am meant to help Oz, and by the goddess, I will die trying. I know it is Elphaba who has your friend and I believe that Sam may be able to help,” Shardik said as he stood. “Would you deny me that chance?” The Wizard looked at Charlie and his eyes darkened. He could not be taller than Sam; no one was taller than Sam. But at that moment, the Dark Magician and Keeper of the Karr of Oz seemed to loom over them in the library, his shadow reaching across the room and Dean swore that it looked bigger. Darker.

This place definitely gave Dean the heebies and/or jeebies.

“You will need someone at least rudimentarily schooled in the spells of Karr-al-Khan, someone to help you with the readings in the book.” The unspoken, _because I cannot be there_ hung in the air between them. “Magick is the heritage of this land. You understand the violence but you do not yet comprehend the power of Keeper history. Your war will not be won without it,” Shardik said.

“The war is over,” Charlie offered.

“Oh, child, the war for the soul of Oz has just begun!” He bellowed. “Elphaba will not stop until she has conquered all the countries. If I do not help you, hope is already lost,” Shardik sat back down into his chair, visibly tired from the exchange.

“It’s just research, Dean. I can do this. We can do this,” offered Sam, and Dean let out a shuddering breath. Over the years, he’d come to realize that all his little brother wanted was to feel in control. Knowledge, for Sam, meant power, and power mean never having to give up control. Knowledge meant autonomy, agency, and all those other words that Sam spewed at him on long car rides across back roads with only static on the dial. If Dean ordered Sam to go with them, he’d fight against it. They didn’t have time to get into a drop-down Winchester battle of wills or whatever, and what Sam learned here with Shardik might actually be useful to them out there.

“Two days, Sammy,” Dean started. He felt Cas watching him as Charlie just stood there, mouth half opened, gaping at him; probably for being reasonable. “We’re gonna need you on the Road, but anything you can find in the meantime will be helpful.” He looked at Charlie. “What?”

“I’m just, uh, surprised is all,” Charlie scoffed at him. “I’ve read the Gospels.” She looked between Sam, who looked mildly amused, and Dean, who scowled at her and then shook his head.

“He’s a big boy. He can make his own decisions,” Dean squinted his eyes at his brother and then looked at Cas. “Don’t you get any ideas, though, tough guy. You’re coming with me,” he grumbled. Cas, to his credit, did not answer, just rolled his eyes at Dean and turned to Charlie.

“Are you sure Sam will be safe here, Charlie?” Cas asked her. Shardik had moved away, giving them space to speak privately as they worked out a solution, but it seemed the decision had been made. Still, Dean was glad Cas asked the question that had been running through his mind since this whole exchange began. If Cas thought it was a bad idea, no way in hell Dean wanted his brother to stay. At this point, Dean recognized he was maybe a bit biased when it came to his brother’s safety.

“He’ll be safe,” she said to Dean. She looked him in the eyes, straightened her back and nodded. “I’m sure of it.” Next, she turned to Sam. “Shardik’s a good teacher, but he doesn’t trust easy. Pay attention and find out anything you can about Elphaba, okay?”

“Who the hell is this Elphaba, anyway?” Dean asked.

“She’s the one who has Dorothy,” Charlie answered, voice low. Her eyes narrowed and she beckoned the boys to lean into a huddle. “Elphaba’s magick is stronger than Dorothy’s. She trained with Shardik. She enslaved the Flying Monkeys and you met her daughter in the bunker...”

“You mean to tell me the Wicked Witch of the West has Dorothy?” Sam asked incredulously.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean huffed. “I thought Dorothy killed her, or whatever. In the movie.”

“No, Dean, Elphaba melted. There’s a difference,” Charlie announced, as if, yeah, everyone ought to know that. “She and Shardik had a child they kept hidden away from everyone. He raised Leona by himself until she was eight. Then she tried to kill him with his own weapon and he shipped her off to her mother,” she huffed a dark laugh. “That green bitch who killed me back in Kansas was Leona, who, along with Oz, summoned her mother back with a necromancy spell after Dorothy melted her. When I returned to Oz, Dorothy broke it to me that we’d basically killed the kid of the biggest warlord in Oz, hence, the nemesis,” Charlie shrugged. “Plus, she already hated Dorothy for melting her, or whatever.” Dean barked a laugh at that. He supposed that after a couple years as a hunter, Charlie was starting to realize that the idea of lifelong supernatural enemies didn’t seem so farfetched.

“For decades, Shardik swore off teaching Karr because of the betrayal of his wife and daughter,”” she cringed. “I swear, Oz is like one big soap opera. Plus, everyone has slept with everyone here,” she grumbled.

“Hope that doesn’t apply to your girlfriend,” Dean joked.

“Inappropriate, Dean,” Sam admonished. _Whatever_.

“Anyway,” she continued. “Whatever you can find out about Elphaba and any Karr you can learn in that forty-eight-hour period will help us, Sam. We’ll meet up at the borders, on the other side of Gillikin Mountain, on the Road to the City. Dean, Cas and I have to make a stop at the Cobbler’s,” Charlie finished.

Dean scowled. “And the Cobbler?” He asked. “Who’s he?” Dean was quickly getting tired of not knowing a damn thing about this place they had landed in. “First thing I’m doing when we get back home is reading those damn books,” he narrowed his eyes at Sam’s satisfied grin.

“He’s a friend. He fixes things,” Charlie offered. “And he’s not in the books.” She glanced between Sam and Dean once more. “Are you sure about this?”

The brothers’ eyes met in silent communication. Cas and Charlie shared a look of their own, and Dean couldn’t help but smile at his friend and his lover, who trusted and stood by both Winchesters, even when doing so was neither convenient nor easy. The least he could do was trust Sam and stand by Charlie. With Cas at his side, Dean decided, he might just be strong enough to do those things.

“Yes, we’re sure,” Sam offered. Dean nodded and clasped his brother’s shoulder.

“Yeah?” Charlie asked, dubious.

“Yeah,” Dean affirmed. “Me and Cas will go with you to the Cobbler’s. Sam will meet us there in forty-eight hours and do his damnedest not to get caught up in anything untowards, won’t ya, Sammy?” Dean turned to look at Shardik, who sat in his chair near an opening in the wall, too small to be called a window, seemingly nodding off in the moonlight. “Hey Wizard,” he barked, mouth twitching with glee when the man started in his seat and dropped the cigar resting between his fingers onto the floor. “You got a map?” Shardik hissed his displeasure at being startled awake, but smiled wide when told that Sam planned to stay with him and assist in the Karr-al-Khan spells.

“I will teach you skills to help you on your journey, Sam,” Shardik promised. “Understanding the power of Karr-al-Khan may just help you save your friend. Between your training,” he motioned to Charlie. “And hers, plus the book, we may be able to keep Oz safe.”

“Thank you, Shardik,” Dorothy said, eyes not meeting the Wizard’s.

“I do not do this for you,” he replied, not bothering to look at Charlie.

“I don’t like it.”

“You just don’t like that we’re separating, Dean,” Charlie said.

“I sure as hell don’t,” he admitted. “And without cell phones, how the hell are we supposed to work out a Plan B?” Dean asked. He leaned into Cas, who had his arm slung across Dean’s shoulders, legs spread out in front of him. Cas squeezed his shoulder and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“He’s going to be fine, Dean,” Cas said. He turned to look at Charlie. “You said earlier you didn’t trust Shardik. How do you feel now?”

Charlie sighed and stood up and moved to sit on the piano bench across from where Dean and Cas lounged. Sam had fallen asleep hours before, after drinking too much wine and hearing a dozen or more of Shardik and Charlie’s war stories.

“The Keepers of Oz were like the Elves of Middle Earth. Shardik’s great-great-great-great grandparents came from Across-the-Desert hundreds of years ago,” Charlie said from her perch on the piano bench, absently running her fingers across the top of the keys. She plucked at one or two, sussing out a song and continued.

“The Keepers were meant to watch over the people of Oz, but Shardik was the last of his line. His brothers are all dead and he has no living children.” She hummed a faint tune, poking at the keys again for a moment before looking up at the boys.

“He, Elphaba and Leona lived happily, for a short while. It ended because Elphaba wanted to use magic to force her rule of Oz. She begged him to help her raise a coup on the leadership and wanted to hex the entire land to worship her. Shardik loved her but he loved Oz more,” Charlie stopped and lifted her other hand to the piano and played both parts of the tune she had been trying to remember. The clear, high notes echoed, the tinny noise clinking and clanking off the stone walls, a metallic twang that died as soon as her hand stilled. Dean hadn’t known she could play, but yet, he wasn’t surprised, not really. Charlie had many hidden talents and many not-so-hidden. He smiled when he recognized the song and began to hum under his breath. When he broke into song, Charlie looked up, surprised, smiling shyly, fingers moving across the keys.

_I’m sailing away_

_Set an open course for the virgin sea_

_Cause I’ve got to be free_

_Free to face the life that’s ahead of me…_

Charlie giggled and turned her body around on the piano bench, facing Dean and Castiel. “You’re such a nerd,” she said.

“You are,” Dean quipped back.

“After he trained Elphaba and failed, Shardik renounced his role as Keeper and kept their child. Her betrayal really hurt him, and he went all Smaug under the mountain, lashing out at everyone who came to him for assistance. He kept his magick to himself and worked as a weapons trader, never using or sharing the Karr. Until me, apparently,” She frowned. “He was trying to be better. Before he trained me, he hadn’t worked with anyone since Elphaba. Leona was dead and I killed her. He forgave me, and he even understood why I had to do it,” she sighed. “Then I stole the Blade from him, and it all broke down. Even after I saved him. I have to live with that.”

“Charlie, you didn’t know--”.

“But I did. We were friends. Him doing this for us, I…” she stammered. “It’s more than I deserve.”

“Charlie, you’re a good person. You made a mistake, but you can make it better. You can ask for forgiveness; make amends,” Dean offered. “It’s not too late.” He looked at Cas, who was watching him in a way that made Dean feel exposed. “Trust me, kiddo. Don’t pass up a second chance.”

Charlie let out a shuddering breath and stood.

“I think I should…”

“Yeah, kid. Go talk to him.”

“It’ll be fine, Charlie,” Cas added. “He cares about you, that much is obvious, or he wouldn’t be helping us.”

“Don’t stay out too late,” Dean joked.

“Or what, my two dads are gonna ground me?” Charlie chuckled as she grabbed her jacket off the back of the couch and ducked in for a hug from both of them. “Thanks guys,” she said, and then she was gone.

The next morning, Charlie woke them before dawn, dressed and ready to leave the castle. They gathered their belongings and ate a small meal in silence, each one of them pondering the days ahead.

“I won’t do anything stupid, I’ve got my weapons, rock salt and even a couple of hex bags tucked away. Just reading and writing and a little magick. I’ll be fine,” Sam promised. Dean nodded numbly, afraid to speak lest he beg his brother to change his mind. Instead, Cas answered for him. Reiterating that Sam should meet them at the borders in two days, that he should send out a runner if he was going to be longer, and then made him promise not to be longer. Dean didn’t speak much as he watched Sam and Cas share a quick hug, worry consuming his thoughts even as Cas, Sam and Charlie attempted to dissuade it.

“The end of Gillikin Country is about half a day on the Road, and we’ll catch up where Munchkin and Gillikin countries meet,” she vowed, hugging Sam goodbye and wishing him well in the Olde Tongue. Dean, though, did not say goodbye to his brother. Instead, he hugged him tight.

“Catch ya later, Sammy,” Dean said, as Shardik led them out a tunnel at the back of the mountain. They were headed to Emerald City at last, and Charlie led the way.


	4. The Cobbler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here be smut.

Dean’s feet hurt.

“Why do we have to walk everywhere? Isn’t there a train system in Oz? Aren’t there cars here?” He groused multiple times over the next eight hours. He was a man and a man needed his car. He missed Baby. “I miss Baby,” Dean grumbled at least seventeen times. “Cas, don’t your feet hurt? Charlie’s used to it, but you gotta be feeling it too, man,” Dean asked, eagerly looking to commiserate with a fellow sufferer.

“I’ve traveled all across the universe, Dean. Walked through the Sahara to witness comets fall from the sky in the clear, open spaces. Trudged through the Amazon alongside long-lost tribes.” Cas turned to Dean, a playful gleam in his eye. “I once stood on the side of a road for four hours waiting for you to awaken. I can assure you, my feet do not hurt,” he finished and, yeah, Dean didn’t have anything to say to that. Instead, he rolled his eyes before bumping shoulders with the angel.

“Well, you don’t have to rub it in,” Dean said, and goddammit, he was not pouting. Without many options for travel in Oz, a journey by foot seemed the best way to traverse the strange and difficult landscape. The Dark Wizard’s castle had been a mountainside, nestled between the forest and a lush valley that they passed through without incident. But here, climbing through the peaks of yet another, looming summit, Dean couldn’t help but wish he’d brought insoles or a pair of hiking boots. Not these goddamn work boots that he pulled on because it was either them or a pair of old Converse with absolutely no arch support. Shit, did he just think the words _arch support_??

“Stop whining, you big cry baby,” Charlie chided. “This path leads to the Cobbler and the Yellow Brick Road. We’ve got _maybe_ another two miles.”

“I know, I know, I’ve seen the map, Charlie,” Dean interrupted, annoyed and hungry and feet throbbing. He just wanted to complain.

“Dean, let me try my grace, I can…”

“Not a chance, Cas,” Dean shook his head. “We never know what it’s gonna do, most of the time, even back at home.” He rested a hand in the small of Castiel’s back. At the touch, the angel turned back to meet his eyes. “I don’t want anything weird happening with your mojo while we’re here because I can’t keep my mouth shut. I care more about you than my damn feet and a few little blisters.” He grinned at Cas’ frown. “Big blisters. They’re huge, actually, I’ll show them to you later.”

“I’m not sure what’s grossing me out more, your boyfriend moment or your festering blisters,” Charlie said, shoulders shaking from effort not to laugh.

“Dean is actually very sensitive, Charlie, as gruff as he may seem,” Cas offered, and Dean groaned.

“God, shut up, both of you,” he absolutely did not whine as he pushed to the front of their single file line. He wished Sam was there with them, and he also wished cell phones existed in Oz, but that would, of course, be too easy. He had left Sam at the castle with a wizard. A **DARK** wizard, and Dean was supposed to continue on as if that didn’t bother him? As if every step further away from his brother didn’t terrify the shit out of him? What if something happened to Sam, and Dean couldn’t get back to him in time because, hello, no cars, no cell phones? Dean tugged at the duffel bag on his shoulder that sat in an uncomfortable lump across his back. He’d packed enough for he and Cas to last at least a week in the country, along with weapons, freeze-dried fruit and meat, plus a copy of Baum’s book, just in case.

His hand froze when he felt Cas reach for the strap of his bag.

“I got it, Cas. It’s fine.”

“Let me, Dean,” Cas coaxed, words soft. “You don’t have to carry your burdens alone. Let me help.”

Dean sighed and stopped. He let the bag slip from his shoulder and groaned at the relief. With the extra weight gone, even his feet felt a little better. Without bothering to glance at Charlie lest he lose his nerve, Dean leaned in for a kiss, cupping Cas’ chin and smiling against his lips.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh my god. Please. Stop,” Charlie croaked from behind them. It was Dean’s turn to shake with laughter and, when he opened his eyes he spotted Charlie behind Cas, face scrunched up in, what Dean would call, “affectionate disgust”.

“Get used to it, sister. Me and Cas are all about PDA,” Dean grinned and stuck out his tongue at his friend. “Just think about where this tongue was a second ago and…”

“Dean!”

“Gross!” Charlie and Cas both yelled at the same time, and Dean tossed his head back, clutching his chest and laughed.

“Oh my god, you guys make it too easy. Way better than fucking with Sammy,” Dean said as he turned to face the head of the rocky path on the way to the Cobbler’s.

“Now let’s get a move on, my feet are killing me.”

Underneath the crest of the mountain, amongst small, dark rocks and tall, green trees, sat a rotting wooden shack that looked as if it had been abandoned for years. The door lay crooked, attached to the house by a single hinge, hanging precariously, and flapping against the frame with every burst of wind. The roof was tin and Dean was briefly reminded of the scene in _Wizard of Oz_ when Dorothy came across the Tin Man. He wondered if the story held any truths. Dorothy didn’t seem to think so, and even after visiting the place, Dean couldn’t be sure. Sam probably had more of an opinion, but that was only because he had read the books as a child, devoured the fantastical nature of an alternate universe even before he knew that such things were possible. Dean never got around to reading the texts, although he remembered seeing the paperbacks littering shared living spaces in motel rooms all across the country. For years of his youth, Sam carried those books with him, reading and rereading. He’d lost them in Omaha, when their dad couldn’t pay the motel manager and the sheriff tossed them out with no warning at the break of dawn. It was leave or get arrested, and John Winchester didn’t give two shits that his youngest boy had forgotten his Oz box set underneath the rollaway, at least not enough to go back. Sam let it go, but Dean never forgot watching his brother stare stonily out the backseat window of the Impala, dry-eyed and resigned. He remembered thinking that Sammy’s childhood was all but over, and it wasn’t two months later he found out Sam had discovered their father’s journal, and he had to tell him that monsters were real. Funny how memories creep out of the cracks and show themselves in the light of day, triggered by some innocuous metal roofing.

“Dean,” Charlie said. “We’re here.”

Breaking out of his reverie, Dean looked toward his friend. “And you’ve got the red heels, right?” He asked.

“They’re my magic shoes,” she said, and pulled out from her Black Widow backpack a pair of bright red stiletto heels. Well, heel. One of them had a stem broken off.

“First of all, did you just quote Forrest Gump? Secondly, nasty. Didn't the other heel end up in Leona’s eye?” He asked, grimacing.

“That would be a yes and a yes,” Charlie said, scrunching up her nose. “I met the Cobbler during the War.” She looked fondly at the structure ahead of them. “He made the Ruby Slippers and he’s a sucker for a good love story,” she winked. “So your PDA will be more than welcome here,” Charlie finished.

“Oh Jesus, Charlie,” Dean grunted. “Can we get on with it, please? I need to sit down.”

She grinned, triumphant. “Let’s do this. Stay here, though. He doesn’t like strangers, much,” she said as she stepped onto the rickety porch. Before Charlie could even press her flesh against the rotting wooden door, it swung open to reveal an aging man about four feet tall, wearing a leather apron and some sort of goggles on top of a shiny, bald head. Dean surmised that the man looked a bit like this universe’s version of Nick Fury, without the eyepatch. Not the white dude with a crew cut, but the Marvel cinematic version played by Samuel L. Jackson. Yeah, this guy looked like a miniature Samuel L., and wasn’t that odd? The Cobbler squinted at Dean and Cas before looking up at Charlie.

“What do you want?” He asked.

“Hello to you, too, Maylik,” Charlie reached down and placed her hand on the small man’s shoulder. “I come all this way and this is the greeting I get? Way to make a girl feel loved,” she smiled and Dean watch in amazement as the old man’s frown melted away into a smile of recognition. He didn’t even think the guy’s face could do that, the way he’d come barreling out.

“Charlie, hello! It’s been so long; I didn’t recognize you. You cut your hair. I like it!” the Cobbler exclaimed and Dean blinked and looked at Cas, who was watching the exchange, an amused expression on his face.

“What are you doing in country? I thought you and Dorothy had gone off into the sunset to live happily ever after?”

Dean couldn’t suppress a snort at the comment. Wasn’t Oz supposed to be the _happily ever after_? Imagine thinking that the world he came from was the place where dreams came true. What kind of fucked up universe was this?

“That’s why I’m here, May,” Charlie said. “I need your help. Elphaba’s taken Dorothy.”

Maylik gazed at the three of them, an indecipherable look on his face. “Come in,” he ushered Charlie, Dean and Cas into his home and Dean was surprised to find that the tiny room was comfortably furnished with a kitchenette, a small bed, a fireplace and a workbench with a table surrounded by tools of the Cobbler’s trade. The small man dusted his hands off on the leather apron he wore and spoke to Dean and Cas.

“Maylik, the Cobbler. Any friend of Charlie’s is a friend of mine.” Maylik offered his hand. Dean grasped the small appendage and wondered if he was finally meeting a Munchkin. The question didn’t seem very politically correct, not that he pretended to understand the politics of Oz. Still, he made a mental note to ask Charlie, when they were alone. After Maylik shook Cas’ hand, he stepped into his kitchen, which was really a sink, a cabinet and an icebox.

“Are you hungry? After a hike through those mountains, I suppose you must be.”

Dean’s stomach growled in response, which Maylik politely ignored as he piled onto a plate meat and cheese and fruit for them to enjoy.

“Sit, sit. I’m sure with those shoes, your feet must be aching by now. Why don’t you kick them off and find some relief?” Maylik called from the kitchen and Dean didn’t have to be told twice. Off the boots came, and Dean unsuccessfully stifled a groan of relief as he wiggled his socked feet and began to stuff mysterious Oz meats and cheeses into his mouth.

“Let me take a look at those for you, Dean,” Maylik offered, hand poised above Dean’s work boots. Dean glanced at Charlie. What the hell?

“He’s a cobbler, Dean. His business is shoes,” Cas reminded him. Oh. Yeah.

“Sure, I mean, you don’t have to, but…” Dean began.

“It would be my pleasure.”

As they ate and rested, the Cobbler took it upon himself to adjust and work miracles on their shoes. For most of his life, Dean had purchased his footwear from local secondhand stores, only ever worried with finding his right size and a quality shoe that would last. It was harder for Sam and Cas, who both had bigger feet than Dean. They usually went to an actual shoe store and bought new items, which fit better and lasted longer than anything Dean had. Of course he could have bought new shoes, but Dean was a creature of habit, and he’d been buying his gear at the Goodwill for so long, he didn’t see a need to change things up at this point in his life. Although, he thought as he glanced at Castiel, change sometimes could be a good thing. He expected his feet to ache a bit at the end of every day. He figured that’s just what happened when a man wore work boots practically every day of his life. It wasn’t too often he got to put on his ratty, old Converse, and just lounge around the bunker. What he didn’t expect was to have to come all the way to Oz to get quality footwear. And that’s what he would have to do, for the rest of his life, if his feet had anything to say about it.

“Oh my god, Cobbler, these feel like marshmallow clouds squishing between my toes,” Dean gushed as he walked across the room, testing out his newly fortified boots. “What did you do to them?”

“Ahh, a cobbler never reveals his secrets, Dean,” Maylik grinned mischievously. “But you need to start purchasing footwear in your correct size,” he said, eyeing Dean’s foot, as if he could discern his precise size by sight. He probably could. Next, Maylik handed Charlie her red stilettos, both heels intact. “These will never have the power they once possessed, Charlie. Do not rely on them, for they will let you down.” He watched as Charlie nodded and stuffed them back into her bag.

“They’re for Dorothy. Her magic is strong, Maylik. Have a little faith,” Charlie said, a small smile on her lips.

“I do. Which is why I took the liberty of making something special for your friend here,” he said. “How do they feel, Castiel?”

Cas looked down at the sensible black boots he now wore, his previous pair discarded, with a promise to be repurposed in the future. The Cobbler silently watched as Cas worked his way across the room as Dean had, testing out the soles of the shoes.

“As I told Dean on the road, I didn’t feel discomfort in the first place,” Cas admitted. “But these are quite nice. Roomy, comfortable and actually quite light.”

“Why’d Cas get new shoes, anyway?” Dean asked the Cobbler.

“His purpose here is different than yours, yes?” The Cobbler answered the question with a question of his own. “He is here for you.” That, Dean thought, was more of a statement.

“Dean is my charge, but he is also my friend, as is his brother and Charlie. I am here…” Cas began.

“You are here for him,” the Cobbler spoke. “Your home is with him.”

“Yes,” Cas admitted quietly. “Dean has always been a beacon for me; a path to humanity. When Heaven brainwashed me, turned me into a mindless hammer, it was Dean who brought me back. Who reminded me that I, too, deserved to be saved.”

Dean sucked in a breath. Cas had never told him that. In fact, for so long, it seemed that he couldn’t get far enough away from the Winchesters. In the past few years, that had changed, and Cas came back to him more often than not. Still, Dean’s heart pounded at the notion that the angel navigated his way to humanity through their shared connection. He looked up into his lover’s eyes and saw only raw truth there, tinged with something that looked a bit like fear.

“Hey,” Dean said, voice thick with emotion. “I’m always gonna be here for you, Cas. You do deserve to to be happy. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“While in Oz, these shoes will help you find your way back to Dean, your home,” the Cobbler said, smiling. “You two are very lucky. When my wife died, I stopped believing in the power of true love.” The Cobbler gazed at the two men and smiled. “But that which has bonded your souls together shines very brightly. You remind me of my time with her. She was so bright. Lorena would want me to help you in any way I could.”

Charlie placed a hand on Maylik’s and squeezed.

“Is that why you’re out here, instead of in Munchkin Country?” Dean blurted.

Maylik chuckled. “Yes, Dean. I left when she died. Her family, her friends, they were not mine. The war took her from me and I was bitter for many years. When I met Charlie,” he smiled at their friend, “she reminded me of my purpose. Why I made those slippers in the first place.” He tightened his grip on Charlie’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “Lorena loved Oz. She would want me to continue to fight for our home until the fighting ends.”

“Thank you, Maylik,” Cas said.

“Thank you,” Dean echoed, his voice breaking. He never wanted to lose Cas, but if he did, he hoped that he would learn to be as strong and hopeful as the Cobbler.

“Maylik, may we rest here tonight?” Charlie asked. “We’re meeting Dean’s brother at the crossroads in a day. He is with Shardik, learning the ways of a Keeper as a Karr apprentice,” she explained. “Looking for anything that can help us get to Elphaba. She’s the one who’s taken Dorothy.”

“I have heard the bees buzzing and the wolves howling. They are saying Elphaba and Dorothy are in Emerald City," Maylik said, his voice grave. 

“Which is where we are headed,” Charlie nodded, a heavy sigh pushing out of her chest. “I came as soon as Glinda let me know what happened, but I fear for her, May,” Charlie admitted. “Dorothy’s magic is strong, but Elphaba’s is stronger.”

“Dorothy is still alive,” Maylik stated, no question in his tone. “And you have the Blade.”

“She is and I do. I can feel her presence in this place.”

“The Ruby sSlippers will lead you to her, but do not rely on them to do much else. You will have to use the Karr-al-Khan. Did he give you the text?” Maylik asked.

“He did.”

“Good. The Dark Wizard can be a real motherfucker sometimes,” he explained and Dean guffawed loudly at the choice of words.

“Fucken Samuel L.,” he wheezed, while Cas just looked at him questioningly. “I’ll tell you later,” he promised. Oh, Sam wasn’t going to believe this shit.

“But it is in his best interest in Oz remains out of Elphaba’s hands,” Maylik said, eyes thoughtful. “The Wizard and the Witch have history, and it isn’t very good. There is no doubt he would benefit from her dethroning.” Maylik focused on his guests, two of whom were nodding in agreement, the third, Dean, was trying his hardest not to nod off at the dinner table.

“But, come, you three!” he offered. “I have made up the spare room.”

Dean looked around the small shack. There didn’t look to be enough space for Maylik to sleep, let alone two grown men and a red-haired ninja.

“Uh, we’re fine right here, sir,” Dean said automatically. When he shifted in his seat, his back cracked, and he offered up an apologetic smile.

Charlie smiled at her friends. “You guys, wait til you see the guest room.”

“Really...” Dean stopped when Maylik opened a door in the corner of the kitchen that Dean hadn’t noticed before. On the other side of the ramshackled wooden entryway seemed to be a room, but it was dark and Dean couldn’t see well enough to determine. He stepped through the door and peered up and all around him. Maylik flipped a switch by the door and light flooded the apartment. There was a high roof, braced by long wooden beams, a wall running down the middle to divide the space into two separate areas that were three times the size of the Cobbler’s cabin, and infinitely more sturdy and well put together. One side for Charlie, one for he and Cas, both of whom stepped through the door behind him.

“It’s magic, dude,” Charlie whispered.

“I know what it is, Charlie,” Dean said, working at clamping his jaw shut after the shock of such a sight.

“It’s very nice, Cobbler, thank you,” Cas offered.

Maylik chuckled at the threesome and moved toward the connecting door between his home and this strange room he had created for them. Dean didn’t pretend to understand the magick of Oz, but he did recognize that those he had met, even the Wizard to an extent, possessed a certain type of kindness that created great things. No wonder Charlie liked it here. She was the kindest person he knew.

“I bid you good night, travellers. Charlie, you know I start my day early, so please don’t leave without saying goodbye.” The Cobbler turned to Dean and Cas. “I’m so glad I got to meet you boys. Good luck on your travels and remember, you can always return home, when home is with one another.” With that the Cobbler tugged the wooden door shut and returned to his shop, leaving Dean gaping at the empty space the man once filled.

“Whoa,” Dean said as he stepped out of the first room and into the second. Inside, sat a king size bed with about a dozen pillows and a thick, fluffy comforter across the top, private washroom and a curtained window, which looked out over the dark hills. “This is ours,” he told Charlie before tossing his duffel at the foot of the bed.

“Whatever, dude, this room is where the television is, anyway,” Charlie grinned, plopping down onto a plush pull-out bed that sat right in front of an entertainment center holding an ancient looking television that probably only got three channels.

“Worth it,” Dean said, his hand now in the small of Cas’ back, pushing him deeper inside their room. He faked a yawn and made an exaggerated stretching motion that had Charlie rolling her eyes and scoffing at the pair before she turned her attention to the media set up. “So, yeah, we’re going to bed,” Dean volunteered to Charlie’s back. She’d already turned on the television and thus, tuned them out.

“Yeah, whatever, up at dawn. Night, boys,” she winked at Dean. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, which is to say, please don’t have loud sex in the room right next door to me.”

Dean blushed and mumbled something about _keeping the television on for a while_ before he shut the door, tugged off his shirt and lay down on the bed next to where Cas already sat. He sighed when he felt Cas’ hand thread through his hair and begin to stroke. They sat like that, quiet for a few moments, enjoying the silence and solitude. That morning in the bunker seemed a lifetime ago.

“This place is weird,” Dean finally said, tugging Cas down to lie next to him.

“It is,” Cas affirmed. He turned Dean gently until they were both on their sides and then he slid behind to press his clothed chest against Dean’s naked back. Only when their bodies touched from shoulders to ankles, feet entangled with one another, with Cas’ free arm slung across Dean’s waist, did he resume stroking Dean’s hair.

“Mmmm.” Dean scooted closer and sighed while Cas tightened his arm protectively. _Fuck it_. He liked being the little spoon with Cas. Even though he knew Cas would never judge him, not seeing his face always seemed to make the confessions about _feelings_ come easier.

“I’m worried about Sammy,” Dean said, his voice barely a whisper.

“I know you are, Dean.”

He felt Cas’ chest rise as he took a deep breath, the exhale of warm breath on the back of Dean’s neck causing goose bumps to rise.

“What if he doesn’t meet us?”

“He will.”

“What if Dorothy’s already dead?”

“You heard Charlie and Maylik. She’s alive. The magic they share assures it.”

It was Dean’s turn to release a heavy sigh. He closed his eyes and turned his head to nip at Cas’ lips with his teeth. Long, lean fingers spread out against his stomach and Dean’s breath hitched at the touch. The fingers worked their way down to the button of Dean’s jeans and deft hands made quick work of the denim, tugging them slowly down his legs and off of his ankles, until the pants landed somewhere in a pile at the foot of the bed, Cas’ soon to follow. When they were both stripped bare, Cas lay back down behind Dean, this time, tugging the cotton comforter over the top of them, until the blanket covered every inch of their bodies up to their necks. Behind him, Cas nipped at his hairline, working his lips down the line of freckles to Dean’s shoulder, which Castiel kissed as he murmured.

“Whatever happens, my love, I will never leave you.”

Dean felt a surge of heat rush through him and he flipped over to face Cas, pushing one arm underneath his torso to pull the other man closer. Crashing their lips together, Dean savored the familiar taste of the person who had shared his bed for the last year. Cas tasted like ozone with a hint of spice; thunder, lightning and everything beautiful and terrifying.

“I love you, you know,” Dean whispered against Cas’ mouth.

Cas hummed a response and pressed his hips into Dean’s, causing Dean’s breath to hitch when he registered the heat of Cas’ erection against the flesh of his thigh. He smiled into the crook of Cas’ neck and began to rut against him, his own cock hardening as his hands explored Cas’ taut body, loving the feel of lean lines and firm muscles underneath his fingertips. With their bodies slotted together, Dean let out a shuddering breath, allowing the tensions of the day to seep out of him so that he could focus on this moment, here, with Cas, who looked at him from underneath hooded eyelids, pupils dark and lust-blown. Rolling their hips in slow, easy movements, Dean and Cas pressed against each other, the only sound in the room their labored breathing and the echoes of what sounded like an Oz version of _Family Feud_ bouncing off the bedroom walls.

“Dean, please.” Cas’ voice was low, chest rumbling against Dean’s like thunder. “I want to be inside of you.” Dean grunted his response as Cas snaked a hand down, past his cock and balls, down into the dark, moist depths of his hole. Dean shifted onto his back and dropped his knees, until he was spread open for Cas, vulnerable and needy.

“Come on, then,” he answered, voice wrecked, even to his own ears.

Cas reached off the bed and into the duffle, to grab the lube they always carried these days. He slicked up his fingers and slid his hand back down to Dean’s perineum, circling his hole before pressing gently into the soft skin. Carefully, Cas pushed his index finger inside, down to the knuckle and began to pump in and out, until the muscles relaxed, allowing him to add another finger. The third finger had Dean moaning for more, harder, faster, He arched off the bed, the slick, wet heat of Cas’ fingers not enough to quench the fire burning in the pit of his stomach. Cas leaned over and Dean lurched for his mouth, entangling their tongues, needing to feel more of the other man, even as their bodies were flushed against one another.

“I want you inside,” Dean whispered, ragged. “I’m ready.”

In the dim lamp light, Dean watched Cas rise up onto his haunches and take himself in hand, slicking up his long, cut dick, and pressing it against Dean’s quivering hole. Cas lined himself up and then caught Dean’s eye, lids drooping and heavy with desire. It was still like this for them; desperate and intense but so, so easy. Without breaking eye contact, Cas slid into him and Dean couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped his lips at the full feeling of Cas bottoming out, buried deep inside of him. He shivered, goosebumps breaking out on the skin of his arms, hair there standing straight up as the electricity between them became a tangible thing. The feeling of being filled, connected and protected by Cas was almost too much and Dean clenched his eyes shut against the immensity of emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

“Come on, Cas. _Move_.”

That last word was punched out of him in a breathy grunt, as Cas pulled almost all of the way out and then snapped his hips sharply, nails digging half moons into Dean’s hips as he fucked into him fast and hard. Draped above Dean, Cas’ eyes never left his for long, and he never, ever closed them to become lost in his own pleasure. Instead, he took in every twitch and moan he wrung out of Dean, cataloguing it and saving the knowledge in his infinite library devoted to Dean’s pleasure.

“Yeah, just like that. Please...don’t stop.” Dean reached up and caressed the rough stubble growing on Cas’ jaw, tugging on his chin until their lips met as Cas’ cock dragged against his sweet spot, relentless. He felt the orgasm building, moving from in his toes up through each and every nerve ending, a storm brewing, threatening to overtake him as it took form, twisting and turning his insides. With mouths pressed against one another, they did not kiss, but breathed in the same air as Dean held onto Cas and they slipped and slid against each other, fucking with frenzied need. Dean looked down between their bodies and watched as Cas disappeared inside of him, the dark hair surrounding Cas’ gorgeous cock tangling with his at every push and pull. His own neglected dick bounced off his stomach with each propulsion of force Cas emitted until Dean finally took himself in hand, tugging in time with Cas’ thrusts.

“Yes,” Cas sighed,eyes darting across Dean’s frame, taking in every slide of skin. Dean licked his lips, not surprised at the way Cas’ eyes catalogued the movement.

“Come inside me, Cas.”

“Fuck, Dean…”

That was all it took to push Cas over the edge. Dean felt pulsing heat in him, Cas’ throbbing cock shooting warmth inside as Dean’s own climax washed over him in a wave of intense pleasure, white strips of come coating his hand and stomach as they rode out their orgasms together, clutching one another and peppering kisses across each other’s skin.

After they had cleaned up with a long, luxurious shower that almost led to round two, Dean and Cas lay back down under the covers of their shared space, this time with Dean behind Cas, one arm at his head, the other resting on Cas’ naked thigh. His flaccid dick rested between Cas’ ass cheeks and if Dean was a younger man and less exhausted, he might have taken the opportunity to do something about that. Instead, he kissed the top of his lover’s head and closed his eyes, feeling sated, safe and secure, with Castiel in his arms.

“You’re my home, too,” he sighed into Cas’ hair. The sleeping man gave no response, and soon Dean, too, fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

While it was still dark, Dean, Cas and Charlie rose in order to start the journey to the Yellow Brick Road and the borders of Gillikin Country and The Emerald City. There was no turning back; Dean would have to finish the job before heading back to Sammy, because that’s what he and his brother had agreed to.

 _“Charlie doesn’t have anyone but us, Dean. She needs us,”_ Sam had told him before they left the Dark Wizard’s castle. _“We’ve got to find Dorothy. Even if something happens to me or you, the other one’s got to go on, for Charlie.”_ Sam made Dean promise wouldn’t turn back until he’d seen the job through and Dean wasn’t going to break a promise to his brother, not this time, not in this place.

As if he was still able to read his thoughts, Cas reached for Dean’s shoulder and squeezed. Dawn creeped through the rocks and hills surrounding the Cobbler’s home that morning, as they bid the small, kind man goodbye, thanking him again for his generosity. Back on the road once more, Dean couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he would truly see his brother by the time the sun rose once more.


	5. The Yellow Brick Road

It had surprised Dean to find out that Yellow Brick Road wasn’t actually yellow. In fact, it probably hadn’t been that color for quite a while. If anything, it was more of a mustard tinge, and so faded, the brick underneath shone brown, broken and uneven, at best. The road so far seemed to be the road less travelled, and Dean wondered out loud when the last time it had seen foot travel.

“No one comes through those mountains to the City, anymore.” Charlie’s voice was thoughtful and low, the only other sound in the air a soft, distant howl. Probably coyotes, Dean figured, trying his hardest not to logically point out to himself that it could actually be all sorts of strange animals in this foreign land.

“After his wife died, Maylik moved deep into the Gillikin Mountains for solitude. “His magic protects him from unwanted visitors, although Elphaba’s minions do, on occasion roam these hills.” She did not acknowledge Dean’s grunt of understanding, simply pressed forward, katana in hand, chopping at the overgrown brush before Dean had a chance to pull out his machete and do it for them. Charlie and Dean walked in silence, for the most part, breaking it only to ask and answer a quick question about the Big Plan, comment on the weird foliage or point out some odd piece of landscape that Charlie thought Dean might appreciate, or vice versa. Cas walked a ways behind them, thumbing through the Karr Book of Spells, occasionally asking Charlie to clarify a historical point or location, and marking the incantations most likely to be of assistance when they arrived in the Emerald City. Although he did not know the intricacies of Karr-al-Khan, Castiel had full knowledge of chaos magick and inhibitory gnosis and easily noted the rituals that would be most useful to Charlie in her quest to find Dorothy and defeat Elphaba. Dean kept an ear out for Cas, but didn’t notice that the angel had fallen behind quite a ways until he heard very distinct growling from the forest.

“Charlie,” Dean whispered, coming to a stop on the path and holding up a hand to indicate that the others should halt, as well. “Cas.”

“I see them,” Cas answered, voice low. “There are at least two wolves right behind the tree line,” he continued. Dean didn’t bother to note that it was dusk and the tree line was dark on this side of the mountain. Cas had freaky good eyesight, and was able to distinguish the different shapes and shades of color in the dark. It was no surprise that his boyfriend was capable of spotting two supernatural beings lurking in the forest, regardless of the fact that they were in an alternate universe and Cas wasn’t currently tapped into his grace.

“I’m sorry, make that three,” he murmured and Dean felt his stomach drop, tension causing his fingers to tighten around his machete handle of their own accord.

“Dean, Charlie, do not run. Running triggers a predatory response in violent animals.”

“Dude, we have nowhere to run. We’ve got to scare them off, right?” he answered, never taking his eyes off the tree line. In Dean’s peripheral, he could see Charlie, within an arm’s length, but Cas had to be at least ten feet behind them and Dean cursed himself silently for not insisting the angel remain closer. At least he and Charlie had their knives in hand; Cas had a goddamn book in his.

“Cas, we’re comin’ to you,” Dean said, voice barely audible. “Charlie, stay close.”

She nodded, eyes on the darkening forest wall. The pair began to slide their feet in tandem over broken bricks, keeping trained eyes on the tree line where the three wolves had pushed through the brush out into the open. These large wolves were nothing like Dean had seen before, even larger than the werewolves he’d encountered. Though he’d never actually seen a hellhound, Dean expected this is what those ferocious bastards would look like. Each animal was well over a hundred pounds, each with a thick, shining coat and bright, yellow eyes. Dark, shining fur covered the muscular body of the largest beast, who had a thick, white stripe running from the spot between his bright yellow eyes down to his tail. When Dean and Charlie began to shuffle across the road, the alpha bared his teeth at Dean, but did not move. About two yards from him stood a smaller animal, but no less terrifying. In fact, this one, a grey and white wolf with eyes that sat under thick, bushy brows, had not stopped growling at Castiel, who continued to stare at the animal square in the eye, while inching herself closer to Dean. The third animal, the smallest, weighed at least a hundred and fifty pounds. She glanced at the alpha before crouching down onto thick thighs, holding a position of attack. She was beautiful, in a horrific sort of way, with, what looked like soft, grey fur and a short, puffy tail that sat still.

“Dean…” Before Cas could finish his sentence, the beasts lunged at the group in a flurry of movement. The large male went for Dean, who had his machete in hand, while the two females attacked Castiel. Cas dropped the book of spells and was pushed down onto his back by the animals, one of whom had latched her teeth around his leg while the other held Castiel down. Charlie sprinted into action, swinging her katana with one hand while removing the Blade of Karr from her waistband with the other. She reached the larger female first, swinging her blade and catching the animal on the leg with the sharp sword. The female wolf howled a high pitched scream, and crumpled to the ground, incapacitated, angry and bleeding out. Charlie ignored her and ran to Castiel who was on his back, underneath the smaller wolf, pants torn and bloody, his arms pummeling the fierce beast as he twisted and turned to get out of her grasp. The smaller animal had her teeth clamped firmly onto Castiel’s ankle, blood gushing from her mouth. What the smaller, grey animal lacked in size, she made up for in fierceness, but Charlie had no time to ponder the circle of life as she thrust the Blade between the shoulder blades of the animal, who let out a yelp and then went still. Cas kicked the body off and fell back onto the ground, panting, eyes trained behind Charlie, on Dean. The hunter spared only a second to meet Cas’ eyes, but that’s all it took.

“Watch out!” Cas screamed hoarsely as the male wolf sprung, knocking Dean onto his back, a move the hunter had anticipated. He felt the blade of his machete plunge into thick flesh, pressing down almost instantly into the hilt, which was squeezed tightly within his closed fist. Blood gushed out from the wound, covering Dean. In seconds, Charlie was there next to him, pushing the body off of him and reaching out a hand.

“He’s hurt,” she told Dean as she helped him to his feet.

Dean raced to the angel, who lay panting on his side in a pool of his own blood.

“Cas, talk to me.” Dean’s voice wavered, but his hands did not. He pulled the flannel overshirt off in one swift movement, wrapping the bleeding wound on Cas’ leg.

“Cas, now would be a good time to spark up that mojo,” Dean said as he tightened the makeshift tourniquet, mouth tight and eyes sharp.

“He’s gone into shock, Dean,” Charlie said softly.

“He’s an angel. He can use his powers,” Dean insisted.

“His powers won’t work here, Dean. The magic is different.” She looked around them and frowned.

“The wolf I cut is gone,” Charlie clipped out, voice tight. “Dean, we have to go. Those were Elphaba’s beasts, which means we need to get to the borderland now, before word gets out that we killed a couple of the Witch’s minions,” she continued, taking one last glance around the perimeter before sheathing the katana. The Blade of Karr remained in her hand as she crouched down and reached for Cas’ hand.

“Is he conscious?”

“Goddammit, Charlie, no, he’s not moving,” Dean snapped, hand moving to cradle Castiel’s head. He was breathing, thankfully. No movement, but at least the bleeding had stopped.

“I’m not leaving him,” Dean said softly.

“And I’m not leaving you, so we need to get off the road and find help.”

“But you just said we needed to get to the border. You’re fast and you know the land. Find help.” Dean didn’t dare look her in the eye, but he could hear the urgency his own pleading tone. “Charlie, you need to go.”

“Dean, I won’t…”

“Charlie!” Dean’s voice rose, panicked. “You’ll move quicker without us. He’s not walking anywhere on that leg. I need you to bring someone here. That wolf couldn’t have gotten far, and she’s probably too injured to walk, herself.” He gently moved Castiel’s head off of his lap and placed a jacket underneath his head. “We can make a stretcher by tying our jackets together. Me and Cas will stay hidden until you come back.”

“Dean, these woods aren’t safe.”

“Ya think?” He said, voice cracking.

Charlie placed a hand on his shoulder and Dean shuddered, grief running through him like a knife that he needed desperately to dislodge, at least for now. He needed to get Cas to safety, wrap him up and make their way out of these woods. If Charlie found Sam, perhaps they could get Cas back to Maylik’s cabin and have the Cobbler help or, if they were close enough, head to the border where Charlie had reinforcements waiting. He didn’t want to abandon Charlie and the hunt for Dorothy, but Cas’ well-being was priority one. Charlie tugged off her jacket and handed it to Dean, who said nothing else as he fashioned the gurney and rolled Cas onto the cloth. They hefted him only a few inches off the ground, but it was enough to get Castiel off the main road and into a brush thicket near where the wolves had first appeared.

“What am I supposed to do?” Charlie asked voice small. For the first time since they’d been swept away in that tornado, she sounded truly afraid. Dean took a deep breath and looked his friend directly in the eye.

“Find Sammy,” Dean said, voice stern and leaving no room for doubt. “Bring him back here, with supplies to sew Cas up. Then we’ll figure out which direction we’re headed in.” Dean dug into his bag and pulled out his flask and clean cloth. He needed to clean the wound and then wrap it. “Charlie, you need to go. It’s going to be dark soon.” She did not answer, simply ran her fingers through Castiel’s hair and whispered words that were too soft for Dean to hear. She nodded once and wrapped her tiny frame around Dean in a bear hug. He squeezed once and then pulled away. He was not going to cry. Cas was going to be fine.

“He’ll be fine,” Charlie said, echoing his thoughts. “And I’ll be back soon. With Sam,” she added.

“With Sam,” Dean repeated. Dean watched as Charlie jogged down the Yellow Brick Road, until he could not distinguish her shadowy form from the rocks and trees of Oz at dusk. When they were alone in the woods, sun drifting low in the sky and a chill rising in the air, Dean let muscle memory take over while he cleaned and bandaged Castiel’s leg, wiping away the sweat and blood as regret settled heavy in his stomach.

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but when Dean awoke, it was to the sound of Cas’ labored breathing. With an arm flung protectively across Cas’ shoulders, Dean lay and listened to the woods for a moment, which made unfamiliar noises above and all around them. Eyes drifting to the sky, Dean noticed that stars looked like nothing he had ever seen through the lens of their Celestron back home. The milky greys and blues were familiar enough, but the celestial bodies seemed scattered and placed in an such an unfamiliar way that Dean felt a wave of homesickness wash over him. He promised Claire he’d keep an eye on Cas and here they were, in the middle of an alternate universe, Cas battered and broken, again. He squeezed his partner tight against him and sighed into the still form. Cas’ breathing was even and the bleeding had stopped, but he hadn’t regained consciousness since that fucking wolf almost took off his leg, and Dean really, really wished this goddamn job was finished so they could go home.

Then he heard something else, the something that woke him.

_Crunch, crunch, crunch._

There it was again. The sound echoed off the treetops and Dean sucked in a breath and held it, reaching for the machete near his head. The noise sounded like a large object moving toward them, but he couldn’t be sure if that object was a some _one_ or a some _thing_. The sun had set hours before and Dean huddled close to Cas listening to the crunching getting closer, a soft murmur of sound under the whistling winds off of the Gillikin Mountains.

“Dean.” The hunter released his breath and prayed a short prayer of thanks to Cas’ Dad, absentee asshat that he was.

“We’re over here,” Dean answered the disembodied voice of his brother. “Is Charlie with you?”

“I’m here, Dean,” she said, before breaking through the brush, katana in hand.

“You found him,” Dean breathed, relief flooding his words. He stood up, careful not to disturb Castiel and met Sam and Charlie at the tree line, a grim but honest smile on his face.

“Told you I would,” Charlie replied easily.

“I left the castle a little earlier than planned. I felt a disturbance in the Force,” Sam said and Dean huffed a laugh, tension somewhat easing out of his shoulders as his brother stepped over to examine Castiel.

“Charlie told me what happened with the wolves.” He placed his hand on Cas’ forehead, feeling for a fever. Instead he found a clammy patch of skin, cool to the touch.

“How is he?” Sam asked.

“He hasn’t opened his eyes since the attack,” Dean answered, voice grim.

“Dean…” Sam began, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder. Under the touch, Dean took a shuddering breath, willing himself not to give in to the fear but to instead use it to get them the hell out of there.

“So get this,” Sam began.

Charlie smiled weakly. “Did you know that in the _Supernatural_ books, you always start your nerdy research sentences like that?” She snorted at Dean’s incredulous look. “Your lives are weird.”

“You’re the one who brought us to Oz, so you’re pretty deep into the weird department, yourself,” Dean shrugged and turned to Sam. “What about Cas?” He prodded his brother to continue.

“What I was going to say before I was interrupted,” Sam gave Charlie a pointed look to which she had the decency to look chagrined, but as soon as Sam turned his back, Dean saw her smirk but couldn’t bring himself to smile.

Sam raised an eyebrow but continued, “I think I can help.” He crouched down and pulled off the pack he carried, rummaging through it for a moment before pulling out a small wooden box that he placed next to Cas’ head. “You wrapped the wound well, but Cas should be awake by now. His grace and the magic of Oz have pushed him into an unconscious state as they battle for dominance in a reality they shouldn’t even be sharing.”

Dean nodded slowly, worried as to where this conversation was going.

“That means that his natural energy is being blocked by Oz. Dean, you remember,” Sam gulped. “You remember that place where our lives were a television show?”

Dean shuddered. “Of fucking course I do. Alternate universes don’t have magic. We learned that the hard way.”

“Yeah, but Oz does have magic, right?” Sam asked.

“Well, yeah, I mean, Cas got fancy Oz shoes from a little person who looked like Nick Fury and told him they would always bring him back to me. If that’s not magical, I don’t know what is,” Dean wisecracked, but the lightness of the joke didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, well, Oz has magic, but it’s not from Heaven, so when we crossed over through the portal, Cas only lost access to his mojo, but he didn’t necessarily lose the abilities.” Sam stopped speaking and picked up the small wooden box. Dean noticed intricate script, looping around the entire piece. There were words, but Dean couldn’t make them out. It was the Olde Tongue, Dean knew that, but it was as if the language stayed on the edges of Dean’s breadth of knowledge, just out of reach. Perhaps if he touched it...

“Dean, no.” Sam snatched the box out of Dean’s reach. “This is my Karr piece,” he explained. “I chose to channel my training through Krushnic’s Box and it’s,” he stopped and looked at Charlie, with whom he shared a look that Dean didn’t quite understand. “Everything I learned is in this box,” Sam finished, as if unsure what else to say.

“Yeah, well, it’s a pretty small box, Sammy. Must not have learned much,” Dean said.  “We don’t have time for this. What can you do for Cas?”

“We need to access his grace,” Sam opened his box, and yeah, Dean planned to make fun of his brother for about a million years for not choosing one of Shardik’s awesome knives or other weapons. “It’s there, blocked and muted, but there,” Sam finished, as he pinched his fingers together to pick up a smidgen of what looked like sand out of his tiny little box.

“What the hell, Sammy?”

“It’s brick dust. From the Yellow Brick Road.” Sam looked at his brother and sighed dramatically. “Dean, the Road is a passageway between our two worlds. With the right incantation, and a bit of blood, I can break the dam holding back his mojo so that he can heal himself.” Sam looked at Dean, who didn’t even try to hide the confusion and doubt he knew must be written all over his face.

“You came back with fairy dust? Jesus, Sammy, we need to get him medical attention. He’s lost a lot of blood and is gonna get an infection if he doesn’t see a doctor soon. This magick stuff? I’m not trusting Cas’ life to your fairy dust and some spell. Not after what we’ve been through,” his voice rising with every word. Dean knew he sounded manic, but he didn’t care. They needed to get Cas somewhere safe and out of harm’s way. There was no way Dean was going to let Sam do some hocus pocus he probably didn’t even understand in the hopes that Cas would magically wake up and heal himself. “How do you even know this is going to work?” Dean asked, unconvinced.

“Dean, what I learned from the Dark Wizard,” Sam paused, taking the time to close the lid to his box, and not releasing the bits of dust in his fingertips, but twisting it between his thumb and forefinger until it had disintegrated into his palm. “He showed me how to channel the energy of Oz. I didn’t train to fight, I already know how to do that. I didn’t want a weapon, we have so many. I wanted to learn how to survive here on Oz’s terms. How to fortify this place, not break it down. I spent the last two days in deep meditation; reading, memorizing, and learning all that I could so when the time came, I would have a tangible way to help Oz that didn’t involve harming its residents.” Sam sighed. “I can do this. I can help him. Let me help.”

“Goddamn hippy shit,” Dean grumbled.

Trusting his brother, not only to do the right thing but also to do it correctly, had always been a weak spot for Dean. As the eldest, he had spent many years watching his brother grow up and make mistake after mistake; trusting the wrong people with disastrous results, struggling with his own demons, sometimes literally. Part of Dean wanted to dwell in those doubts, to refuse Sam the opportunity to utilize the skills he had learned with Shardik, to give into his ever-present doubts about his younger brother. There was no way Sam could have gained any real knowledge of Karr-al-Khan in two days. What if Dean let Sam take charge and he screwed up and hurt Cas? That would be on Dean. He’d rather have the guilt on him than on Sammy, anyway. To hand over the reigns and allow someone else, especially his little brother, do the saving, well, that terrified Dean. Nevertheless, if he’d learned anything from his time with Castiel, though, it would be to let go, just a little, of that weight of the world he carries so valiantly on his shoulders and allow someone who cares to help. Dean knew that, when the Winchesters worked together and not against each other, the results spoke for themselves. Regardless of his doubts, what Dead did know was that he didn’t want to look at his little brother and only see the mistakes. He needed to acknowledge everything his brother had accomplished in his lifetime, good and bad. If there was one thing Sam Winchester was capable of, it was fighting--in any and every way he knew how. [PK1] If his brother believed he could help Cas gain access to his grace, even if Dean wasn’t sure about the magick to begin with, he needed to let Sam try. Cas would tell him to have faith. Besides, whatever happened couldn’t be worse than an unconscious Cas in the middle of a forest in an alternate universe. Dean needed to let Sam do this. He wanted to.

“What do you need?” Dean asked and Sam’s face flooded with relief.

“I mingle your blood with his, add the dust and repeat the incantation in song form.”

“In what form, now?” Dean couldn’t help but ask, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

Sam mouth twitched and his eyes narrowed as he looked at Dean. “Chaos magick is meditative,” he huffed. “Dude, we discussed this. I’ve got to repeat the incantation while in a trance. Charlie learned the same techniques while under Shardik’s training, right?” He turned at their friend, who slowly nodded her agreement.

“So get...I mean,” he stopped in the middle of his supposed catch phrase and cast a meaningful look at Charlie. “I mix the dust and your blood together and use the incantation to awaken his grace. He should gain access to it immediately and be able to heal himself.”

“He hasn’t used his grace in a year, Sam.”

“I know, Dean, but what other choice do we have? We’ve got to trust that he’s going to be okay. Wovoka wouldn’t have imbibed him with something that would hurt him.”

“We don’t know anything about Wovoka!” Dean exclaimed, the old argument heckling his tired brain.

“Dean,” Charlie interrupted. She’d remained quiet during the brothers’ exchange, but had continued to tap her foot and eye the tree line, her nervous body language revealing her worries before any words had left her mouth.

“Whatever you do, it has to be now,” Charlie said.

“Why my blood with his?” Dean asked, peering into the distance as he rolled up his sleeve, knife clutched between his teeth.

“The grace he’s given you over the years, basically _your soul_ , will awaken his grace in this place,” Sam answered. “It’s actually really simple alchemy,” he shrugged. “Shardik told me the bond you two shared would _always guide the other home_ ,” Sam looked between Dean and Castiel and Dean felt his face heat.

“Uh, yeah, the, um, Nick Fury, the Cobbler, um, Maylik, said the same thing with the shoes,” Dean said, trying very hard not to stutter.

“It’s very quiet here,” Charlie commented, voice low. She gazed out onto the vast forest of Oz and the mountains behind the trees.  “That’s never a good sign. We need to move before Elphaba sends soldiers.”

“Agreed,” said Sam. “Dean?”

Sam was leaving the final say up to Dean, which meant he couldn’t make the easy, selfish choice, in which he saves the day and figures out how to save everyone on his own. No, Dean had travelled to an alternate universe in which he was forced to trust his family, strangers and now, a blood ritual. Right now, all he wanted was for Cas to be okay and to find Dorothy and get the fuck out of Oz.

“Blood magic is powerful stuff. Will it bind either one of us to this place?” Dean asked, finally.

“No. With Karr-al-Khan, the bond is broken as soon as the bearer desires it, in Oz or outside of its borders,” Sam said.

Charlie nodded curtly before hissing, “Now, fellas,” through grit teeth, pulling the katana out of the sheath. “We need to get out of here.”

“Alright, alright, do it, Sam,” Dean said, pulling out a blade from his back pocket and crouching down to the ground where Cas lie.

“I need you to cut yourself, then him and pour the drops of blood in my hand,” Sam said. “Use your knife to mix it with the dust.”

Sam sat down, Krushnic’s Box nestled in between his criss-crossed legs. He lay his arms on his thighs, palms up, fingers still pinching dust from the box. With his eyes closed, he began to chant in a sing-song voice, unintelligible sounds tumbling from his lips while he placed the dust in the palm of his hand.

Even after years of cutting, filleting and slicing into himself and others, it still hurt like a bitch to dig the knife into the flesh of his arm and then Cas’, to get a few drops of blood for the spell. He watched the blood fall from his veins into Sam’s dust filled palm, like ruby red raindrops onto an unpaved road. Next, Dean sliced Cas’ hand, and his brother never stopping the constant song that Dean could not understand. When Castiel’s blood hit the dirt, it began to brighten, glowing a brilliant white blaze of light in the palm of Sam’s hand. The light grew more luminous with every word that Sam uttered, until Dean had to squint from the dazzling beams emanating from the mingled blood and dust.

“Come on, babe,” Dean muttered, eyes closed, one hand grasping the blade and the other resting on Castiel’s injured leg, a soft, constant touch of comfort and reassurance from and for Dean. Under his fingers, the skin began to burn like fire and Dean was forced to snatch his hand away, hissing a breath in at the pain tingling in his fingers. When Sam reached his hand out to touch the flayed skin of Castiel’s injured leg, Dean barked out a warning.

“His skin, it’s on fire!” Dean bellowed, but Sam ignored him, pressing flesh against flesh easily, eyes closed, lips moving in song.

“Charlie, cover your eyes,” Dean said, shaking his head in disbelief. He dropped his blade and turned his head away from the luminescence that he could feel throbbing through and all around him.

A hand now on both Charlie and Sam, Dean could feel Castiel’s power pulsing through their shared bond, an electric tingle under his skin itching and crawling, begging for release. He’d felt it the first time Castiel attempted to show him his true form; when Castiel blew out the windows in that Gas ‘n’ Sip, trying to share his true voice. He didn’t know if that light was Cas’ grace, Karr magick, or some combination of both, but they needed to get out of Cas’ unintentional line of fire.

“We’ve gotta move, he’s gonna blow!” Dean yelled as he tugged the pair away from Castiel’s body, shielding his eyes from the blinding brightness of Cas’ grace and pushing them onto the ground. Sam allowed himself to be moved and the three of them hit the dirt with force. The forest shook, and Dean could feel the heat of Castiel pulsing through him, but he kept his face buried in the dirt, arms flung across both Charlie and Sam, pressing into the ground in an attempt to shield them from the ferocity of unfettered angelic power. Above them, a thunderous noise clapped across the sky, vibrating underneath and all around and then silence. Peering over his folded arms, Dean saw the immediate forest line flattened, a circle of trees that once stood tall and menacing bent and crushed, as if by the foot of an angry god.

“Dean,” Cas croaked from behind them.

Dean whipped his head around and was on his feet and by Cas’ side in seconds, hands running over the places on his body where wounds had been only moments before. He gingerly ran his fingers across Castiel’s leg, which moments before had been ragged and bloody, held together only by the thin gauze from the first aid kit Dean kept in his duffel. Cas’ skin felt soft and new, the wiry hair normal and familiar. The blood was gone from his clothes and his jeans were once again whole, the boots Maylik gave Cas neatly tied and comfortable on Castiel’s feet. Dean was surprised Cas didn’t materialize into his trenchcoat, just for old time’s sake.

“You’re amazing, angel,” Dean breathed, tossing his arms around Cas’ neck and pulling him close.

“My grace,” Cas said, voice full of awe. “You found it inside yourself.”

“I’m not losing you again, Cas,” Dean choked, arms wrapped around Castiel, face buried in his hair. “I knew you’d come back to me.”

“You did it, Dean. You brought me back.”

Sam raised his eyebrows and snorted. “Typical.”

“Shut up, Sam, you’re ruining the moment,” Charlie whispered, eyes never leaving Dean and Cas. “Now kiss,” she hummed, eyebrows furrowed and mouth tugging into a dreamy half smile.

“Oh my god, I hate you both,” Dean groaned at his brother and Charlie, but he didn’t let an audience stop him from snaking his hand behind Cas’ neck and pulling him into a rough kiss. With his forehead pressed  against Castiel’s, the hunter whispered words of adoration and thanksgiving, assuring Castiel (and himself) that they were all safe, they were all together and they would all be home very, very soon.


	6. The Emerald City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic violence ahead. Please see end notes if you want to know more specifics and don't mind being spoiled.

If he hadn’t seen the film and heard about the place, at length from Sam and Charlie on the road, Dean wouldn’t have recognized the dilapidated town in front of them as the Emerald City. All around him, the crumbling buildings revealed a history of violence and residents who had long since gone. A fine layer of dust and gloom had settled over the city, and there were no people in the streets, no shops open, nothing. The Yellow Brick Road, which was supposed to lead them to the center of the city, stopped a few feet in front the city gates, which no longer barred the town, but lay on its side in overgrown grass at the foot of the great wall. Dean supposed he should not have expected to see the shining emerald structures of the classic movie, yet he felt a tinge of disappointment as he took in the remnants of a broken town, the likes of which he had never seen in all his lifetime, reminiscent of the post-apocalyptic future Raphael had once thrust him into. At the center of the city, tall, grey spires, the tops of what were once glorious architectural masterpieces, lay crushed on the ground, victims of the war between a mad Wizard and the rebellious people of Oz who refused his tyrannical rule. According to Charlie, with that hard-won freedom came every thug and witch with a god complex looking to make a name for themselves vying for a place of power in Oz. Elphaba had been the strongest, worked the hardest, and played a long game. She’d fought against the Wizard of Oz for years, and when the rebel forces (and Charlie) finally took him out of the equation, the war left the people of Oz leaderless, which is when Elphaba stepped in to assert her dominance. _Leader of the Rebellion_ was what she called herself, when in fact, it had been her thugs who bombed the Emerald City and who now allowed this once beautiful place--to rot.

“After she bombed the city, the Wizard split with his dark side and escaped to your universe to begin a life for himself. Elphaba took advantage of the people, twisted their beliefs, convinced them of her legitimate care of the country while destroying it slowly, from the inside. She is a terrorist and an asshole,” Charlie stated. “She kidnapped Dorothy because my girl has a following,” she added. “A rising power who will eventually overthrow her. No one is more loved in Oz than Dorothy, and Elphaba knows taking Dorothy from the people means crushing their spirit. The rebellion isn’t over and Dorothy is the true leader. Everyone knows it.” Charlie’s voice trembled, shoulders shaking from the effort it took for her not to cry or scream or punch something. It was one of those things, but at this angle, Dean couldn’t be sure.

He sighed, placing a gentle hand on Charlie to pull her into his arms.

“C’mere, kiddo,” he mumbled, wrapping himself fully around his friend in a bear hug.

“We’re gonna find her, and then we’re gonna get the hell out of Dodge, okay?”

Charlie shook her head, stiff, brow wrinkled.

“That’s just it, though, Dean. This is my home now. I want to find Dorothy, but I’m not leaving her. Not again,” she said, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes, but they did not fall. “Thank you guys for coming to help me, but I can’t just take off.” Charlie heaved a shuddering breath, straightened her back and pushed away from Dean. He looked down at his friend, marveling that she had somehow, sometime, grown into a goddamn huntress. At home, Charlie had been an outcast, constantly running, never settling, always searching for her quest. In Oz, she was a magical ninja fulfilling a need in the realm. She had found her purpose here, he understood, at last, and he couldn’t just ask her to upend that for his own peace of mind.

Dean took a deep breath, looking at Castiel and Sam, who watched the exchange silently, but hovered close, understanding the impact of the moment for all of them. Charlie wanted to stay. She needed their help, but when it was time to leave, she meant for them to go.

“You gotta fight for what what you love, Charlie. Not sometimes,” Dean squinted at her, mouth serious and firm. “All the time.” He said, squeezing his friend once more and then letting go. Sam gave Dean a small smile and nodded at him. Dean thought he looked a little proud.

Suddenly, a loud noise cracked through the silence.

“Who dares enter this city?” A woman’s voice boomed out from all around them, reverberating off the walls of Oz’s abandoned city.

“Seize them!” The voice screamed.

From between the broken buildings appeared four snarling, oversized wolves wearing saddles and soldiers on their backs, stalking toward Dean, Cas, Charlie and Sam. The group gathered into a defensive circle, backs to one another, weapons raised. Charlie brandished the Karr Blade, muttering an incantation that caused it to burn red hot above the handle. Dean, Cas and Sam pulled out their own, familiar weaponry, which fit easily in their hands, molded to the man who held it. Castiel held his angel blade loosely, an extension of his being for a millennia, shining, sharp and deadly. Dean’s flashed the rough end of his machete and gave the nearest monster his best shit-eating grin, ready for a fight, while next to him, Sam twisted Ruby’s knife in his fingers and straightened his back, cracking his neck, prepared. Each man felt the presence of the other acutely, and, after years of fighting alongside one another, used muscle memory to fall into a military formation, including Charlie easily.

“Bring it,” Charlie snarled, pointing the Blade at the approaching monsters and baring her teeth.

“Wait!” A woman’s voice rang out shrill and high above the clatter and Charlie gasped when she made out the group of riders, raising her hand slightly, signaling the boys to hold their fire.

“Dorothy?” Charlie said, voice thick. She dropped her blade and Dorothy jumped off of one of the wolves, running toward her, with Dean, Sam, Cas and the three other soldiers looking on, weapons still drawn.

Dorothy wrapped her arms around Charlie and lifted her slightly off the ground, pressing her face into Charlie’s neck while Charlie placed her hands on Dorothy’s face, eyes full of wonder and confusion.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Dorothy breathed into Charlie’s hair, arm thrown loosely around her waist. “What are you doing here? I thought…” Only then did she look at Sam, Dean and Cas standing in front of them, looking at her and her crew with weary eyes.

“I thought you couldn’t come back to Oz,” Dorothy said. “The key was broken. How did you and the Men of Letters come to be in the Emerald City?”

“Glinda brought me back,” Charlie answered. “To find you.” She bent to pick up her fallen blade, sheathing it on her hip so that the Winchesters would do the same. Dean eyed Sam and Cas before sliding his machete back into his belt, dropping his hands to his sides but never taking his eyes off the four riders, who now sat, wolves on their haunches, observing the exchange silently. The one nearest Dean, whom Dean had directed a very condescending smile earlier, now stared at him as he slowly sheathed his own weapon and pet the side of his wolf’s neck, murmuring unintelligible words to it.

They all watched, as Dorothy and Charlie stood very still and close, communicating quietly. Finally, Charlie pushed away to return to Dean and Sam, with Castiel hovered on the outskirts, between the beasts and his friends, angel blade gone but mojo at the ready, simmering under a calm but fierce exterior.

“We’re going to see Elphaba, boys,” Charlie said. She set her jaw and made eye contact with Dean before continuing. “Dorothy and her friends here are going to lead the way, isn’t that right, Dorothy?”

“Yes. Elphaba will be pleased to see you,” Dorothy murmured, returning to her waiting wolf and motioning Charlie to accompany her. “Winchesters, you will ride with the Quadlings. Tall one, with Que. Angel, with Quay. Pretty one, you ride with Quan,” Dorothy smirked at Dean but he refused to rise to the bait, simply followed Charlie’s lead and headed to the animals and right to the soldier he’d been eyeballing before. Might as well have some fun fucking with the guy.

“Going my way, soldier?” Dean smirked. He could see Cas out of the corner of his eye, watching the exchange. He turned to watch Dean. Waited.

“Dean…”

“Be ready,” he mouthed, catching Sam’s eye and nodding.

Dorothy was working with Elphaba, which meant there was more to this kidnapping than they initially thought. Something was very strange in the land of Oz, well, stranger than usual and, for the first time since they arrived, Charlie looked terrified.

Dean held on to the man in front of him with one hand, while digging the other into the thick fur of Quan’s wolf, savoring the feel of the wind blowing through his hair and strength of the wild animal underneath him.

He felt like he was in fucking _Game of Thrones_. Winchester is coming!

Glancing at Cas and Sam, he saw that they were as conflicted as he; enjoying the amazing experience of _riding a goddamn wolf_ , but the wariness in their eyes and tense body language told Dean that they were still on high alert. He looked at Charlie, who had both arms wrapped around Dorothy’s waist, head tucked neatly over her shoulder, red hair flowing wildly as they pounded across the pavement on Elphaba’s beasts. Why would Dorothy be working with Elphaba after all this time? Was she under some sort of spell? Were they walking into a trap? It sure felt like a fucking trap. Quay, who led the pack with Cas, slowed in front of one of the last buildings standing, located toward the back wall and opposite the entrance to the Emerald City. The structure looked like a church or temple of some sort, and Dean briefly wondered if there was such thing as religion in Oz and if Karr was _it_ , for this place. He didn’t comment when he saw his brother gazing around the room, mumbling secret words under his breath that Oz residents might not appreciate an outsider knowing. And, after years of experienced hustling and petty theft under his belt, it didn’t escape his attention when Sam pocketed the wooden box that Shardik had given him. It was a good idea to tell no one about Sam’s knowledge of Oz’s most ancient magic, at least not until absolutely necessary. While most folks in Oz probably knew what Charlie was capable of, Dean preferred it if the Winchesters remained unassuming and underestimated. It worked for them at home.

Dean slid off his wolf and planted his feet firmly on the floor, taking a moment to lay his hand on the wolf’s hind legs in silent thanks, before moving toward Sam, Charlie and Castiel, who stood in the middle of the road in front of the building, away from the soldiers, who dismounted their animals and led them to the back of the building, out of sight.

“What is this place?” He asked quietly.

“It’s a Karr temple. An abandoned training facility, probably,” Sam answered. “There’s lettering on the door and symbols in the windows that I recognize from my time with Shardik.” Sam looked over Dean’s shoulder to a group of militiamen waiting for them at the entrance to the site. “Shardik and Elphaba practice Karr-al-Khan. She was his student and, eventually, his lover.” Sam paused, clapped a hand on Cas’ shoulder and grumbled loudly, for the benefit of their audience, “We’ll be home soon, man, and then we’ll work on getting your powers back,” before lowering his voice again. “We can’t let them know about Krushnic’s box and we can’t let them know about Cas’ grace returning. They know he’s an angel because of Dorothy, but they don’t know that he’s got access to his juice, here. They don’t know we broke through with Karr.” Sam looked at Charlie. “Do you trust her?”

Charlie looked at him and Dean saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes but she shook her head, resigned.

“Not right now, we can’t. Assume she’s under some sort of spell, until further notice, but we’re not leaving her here, okay guys?”

She knew them well.

“Got it,” Dean promised.

“And I am hiding not using powers?” Cas asked.

“Not yet. If they know you’re mojo’d up, there gonna know the old magick is involved. We’ve gotta keep our cards close to the chest on this one as long as possible,” Sam answered and Dean reached for Cas’ hand to give it a quick squeeze. Cas nodded, his eyes focusing on something behind Dean, and his demeanor shifting into something less volatile and more innocent. Dean turned to find Que, Quay and Quan striding up to them with Dorothy lingering back, allowing them space.

“Elphaba will be waiting,” Que said to Sam, who nodded and began walking toward the entrance of the facility. Charlie fell in next to Dorothy, while Dean and Castiel slowed and walked behind them.

“If we cannot save Dorothy, what will we do?” Cas asked Dean when the others were out of earshot.

“We take her with us, regroup with Charlie’s people. Go home,” Dean answered. Castiel remained silent as they entered into Elphaba’s lair, a large musty room with high ceilings and dust covering every surface. Most of the windows were blown out, but there were a few with stained glass pieces that remained intact. The colors were dulled, but depicted scenes of soldiers in battles across forests and plains that Dean did not recognize. At the end of a long aisle down the middle of the building that Dean supposed used to be a temple, a woman stepped out from behind a broken pillar. She wore a long, black cape over black pants and a blouse made of delicate black lace underneath what Dean thought may be a corset. The woman’s raven hair was all angles; from the straight bangs to the precise bob that cut across her face, she wore a perfectly shaped helmet of hair. On top of her head sat a tall, pointy, wide-brimmed black hat, which Dean had only seen on one other person, and that was Elphaba’s daughter, whom Charlie had killed in the bunker over a year ago. This woman was beautiful and she was green. She looked younger than her own daughter, which had to be some of that Oz magic everyone was talking about and radiated a fierceness that might have terrified Dean, if he didn’t already have experience with the wrath of an Angel of the Lord, at least every other week and twice on Sundays.

“I thought I told you never to come back here, witch,” Elphaba spoke with a clipped tone as she bound across the room toward Charlie. Dean reached for the machete tucked against his skin, but Charlie stopped him from advancing with a touch of her hand. When he met her eyes, she shook her head slightly and turned toward the woman, silent.

“You’ve got the book, don’t you?” Elphaba crooned, face close to Charlie, eyes darkened slits sitting underneath manicured brows. “You do!” She clapped her hands, eyes widening, a wide smile on her ruby red lips. “Things turned out even better than I could have imagined. You and that so-called Wizard are so predictable. With the Blade and the book, Dorothy and I can take our rightful place as rulers of Oz. This is marvelous news,” she said, turning to Dorothy, who stood behind Elphaba, face blank.

“Isn’t that wonderful news, darling?” Dorothy’s expressionless face broke into a bright smile with no truth behind it, eyes darting between Charlie and Elphaba until they finally landed, dazed, on the witch in front of her. From the corner of his eye, Dean watched Charlie straighten her back and glare at Elphaba. Flanking his sides, Cas and Sam’s energy shifted, preparing themselves for what was to happen next. Keeping his arms low, but at an angle both his brother and Cas could see, Dean lifted a single finger. Wait.

“Wonderful news, darling,” Dorothy echoed.

“Do you know what this means?” Elphaba asked, snaking her arms around Dorothy and watching Charlie as she bent over to kiss the woman behind the ear.

“You are the most powerful witch in all of Oz. The Karr is yours,” Dorothy said, her eyes closed, head tilted as Elphaba nosed at her throat.

“It’s ours,” Elphaba corrected, lifting her head and looking at the group in front of her. The witch raised her hand, pointing a single, lean finger at Sam. “Now sleep.” Dean turned in time to see Sam fall to the ground, but before he could reach for his weapon, she pointed the same finger at him. Dean sank to his knees and into darkness.

Of course he was in a dungeon in Oz. Left to rot in a hole at the bottom in Emerald City; this was the life of Dean Winchester, after all. He blinked his eyes to clear his vision and surveyed the room. _Fuck_ , his head was throbbing. The walls around him were stone, and housed a thick, wooden door that belonged on some medieval castle, and yet here it was, in a magic church in the Wonderful Land of Oz. There was a small, barred opening at the top of one of the walls. Dean stood underneath it, lifted his fingers to the opening, and wiggled them, then waited.

“Dean?” Castiel’s rough voice on the other side of the wall broke Dean out of his worried thoughts.

“Cas? Where’s Sam?”

“Dean, thank god you’re awake.” He heard his brother speak from the opposite side of his cell.

“What happened? Where’s Charlie?” Dean asked.

“Cas says she’s upstairs. They knocked us out with some sort of spell. Well, me and you. Cas was faking it.”

“I sense Charlie’s presence but she is weakening. And we agreed I wouldn’t use my grace, yet. Besides, it did make me feel a little sleepy,” Cas said amicably through the cold stone wall.

“Do you still have your kit? They got mine,” Sam asked, ignoring Castiel.

“Yeah. Gimme a sec,” Dean answered, shaking his head in the empty room. Out of the inner pocket of his anorak, he pulled out a lock pick kit and peered at the keyhole then his tools. It was a warded lock, which meant he needed a rivetless, stainless steel pick. The kind he used on motel doorknobs and modern locks wasn’t going to work. He needed to bypass the warded obstructions and simulate the corresponding notches in the lock. Bending down low and eye level to the keyhole, Dean held his breath as he stuck in a long, flat pick with a t-notch at the end, pushing to the bottom of the keyhole at insertion and wiggling the metal. Inside, the two latches popped with an audible click and, in less than thirty seconds, Dean had his door unlocked and stood outside of the room where Sam was being held.

“You alright, Sammy?” Dean questioned, already jimmying the lock and pulling the door open. His brother stood directly on the other side, ready to bust him on the head with a two by four, which he lowered when he saw it was definitely Dean opening the cell.

“Hello to you, too. Cas is...”

“Over here,” Cas’ disembodied voice said, and the brothers moved down the opposite side of Dean’s cell.

“Don’t you dare use your grace,” Dean told him when he saw Cas looking at his split lip and blackening eye. “I’ll be fine, I fell hard is all. We need to find Charlie.”

Castiel closed his eyes and tilted his head up, listening. “She is three floors above us, with Dorothy and,” he paused, pierced his lips and opened his eyes. “Four henchmen.” Cas reached up and thumbed the creases at the corner of Dean’s eyes, glaring at the injuries on his face.

“This witch should hope I do not smite her. She deserves no less than the full wrath of heaven for hurting you,” Cas muttered, before placing a chaste peck to the corner of Dean’s mouth. Behind them, Sam huffed a laughed and Dean ducked his head to hide the blush he hoped wasn’t forming.

“You only want me for my pretty face,” Dean joked at Cas, embarrassed. He never could take a compliment without deflecting, although being with Cas, Dean had started to learn how to accept the praise Cas constantly bestowed on him. The angel complimented him all the time--from Dean’s superb burger grilling skills to the fit of his favorite Zeppelin shirt, to the color of the, um, pleasure in his soul--Castiel praised Dean on a regular basis and Dean, well, Dean actually really enjoyed feeling cared for and appreciated, as much as he attempted to deflect. Plus, Cas had threatened him with a 24-hour no-sex penalty unless he smiled and said thank you for any compliment received. Yeah, Dean was being trained, he knew it, and didn’t much care.

“I love you for your inner being, Dean, you know that. There is so much more to you than your good looks.”

Now Dean was definitely blushing.

“Yeah, thanks, Cas,” he stuttered.

Sam cleared his throat. “Uh, guys. Charlie?”

“Three floors up. Let’s go,” Dean said. He half-smiled at Cas and squeezed his hand before turning heel and heading to the staircase that led to the upper floors. There were no guards in sight, but that only meant that Elphaba had indeed underestimated the Winchesters. They were hunters and had been locked up and knocked around more times than Dean cared to talk about. He gathered and distributed their weapons as Cas led the way up the stairwell, pausing every few minutes to stop, listen and continue on. When they reached the floor directly underneath the outside world, Castiel stopped at the door and took a breath.

“I sense Dorothy on the other side of this door,” he whispered.

“Well, what do we do? Whose side is she even on?” Dean answered.

“She’s definitely under a pretty powerful spell, but Charlie wouldn’t want us to hurt her,” Sam said, tucking his knife back into its sheath at his side. “Let me talk to her.” He pulled out Krushnic’s Box. “There’s an awakening spell meant to bring the bearer to clarity. If she is under Elphaba’s influence, this should work.”

Holding a handful of dust ground from the Yellow Brick Road and mumbling an incantation Dean did not understand, Sam stepped through the door. Dean and Cas followed, weapons drawn. Dorothy turned in time to get a face full of fairy dust, to which she coughed and sputtered and swung at the air until it had cleared.

Dorothy blinked a few times before peering between the three men, eyes clouded and confused. “Why are you here?” She scowled.

“We’re here to help,” Sam said, rubbing his dusty hands together and then touching each side of Dorothy’s face, drawing unknown sigils into the skin there with his fingertips. With wide eyes, Dean watched as the sigils written in dust and spit onto the side of Dorothy’s face began to glow, taking the shape in the form of light. Hissing, Dorothy pulled her face away, shaking her head and pawing at her skin. When she touched the sigils, she hissed again and snatched her fingers away, as if she had been burned.

“What the hell, Winchester?” She muttered, looking around them. “What’s going on? Where’s Charlie?”

“Elphaba’s got her. We need your help,” Sam answered, tucking the box back into his pack. “Charlie isn’t safe, Dorothy. We have to get out of here.”

“Where did you study your trade, Man of Letters?” Dorothy demanded, hand on Sam’s wrist, examining the remnants of dirt and grime. “How did you come to have this magic?”

Sam sucked in a breath and it was then Dean noticed the blade Dorothy had tucked into his brother’s ribs.                            

“Answer me, wizard!” She seethed, twisting the knife and cutting a hole into his shirt. Dean growled and lunged toward Dorothy, but Sam held up a hand to halt him and Cas rested a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

“It was Shardik,” Sam answered, voice calm and even. “The Dark Wizard trained me in Karr-al-Khan and these skills are my weapons. Dorothy, we came here to find you. To help you. Now we need your help getting Charlie out of here. The witch will kill her,” he finished. The tension crackled and fizzled out as Dorothy dropped her knife and loosened her grip on Sam’s wrist. She turned to gaze down the hallway, eyes stopping at a point Dean could not discern. He looked at Sam and Cas with questioning eyes, but they both gave a short nod and he allowed himself to relax. They might need Dorothy to help them to Elphaba and besides, Charlie would want them to help each other.

“Elphaba has sent her soldiers out to raid the nearby villages as they stock up for the raid against Munchkin Country and Glinda. After she destroys their defenses, she will go after Shardik with a bastardized version of his own magick.” Dorothy studied the men in front of her. Dean supposed she had preconceived notions of who they were, even after they’d fought together. She had found them in the Men of Letters bunker, and those guys were dicks to hunters, from what he gathered. But Dorothy was a hunter, like them, and hunters didn’t trust easy.

“I am truly surprised you three have gotten this far.”

Dean scoffed.

She ignored him, gazing directly at Sam. “That Shardik would trust someone from Across-the-Desert with the spells of the people here...you are capable hunters. I am sorry I doubted you.” Dorothy turned heel and silently moved down the long hallway. “Elphaba wants Oz,” she whispered, back turned to them.”With Shardik’s toys, she can fortify her army, take over the entire land, but she hasn’t been strong enough to attack the Wizard. He is the last bastion of defense against the power of Elphaba, and never even knew it.” She paused. “I hoped we would unify the countries together. She is so...enigmatic, so strong. I admired her and, while I mourned Charlie, I don’t know, I mean, I’m not sure…” Dorothy tapered off, her words lost in the dark corners of Elphaba’s lair.

“She bewitched you, in a way,” Sam offered, quietly. “Using your own desires against you, to confuse you. While the Karr bonds may be broken by the bearer at any time, the magick enhances emotional connections.” With his clean fingers, he wiped at the dirt clinging to Dorothy’s temples.

“The darker bonds of Karr are overwhelming and Elphaba manipulated that. Shardik taught me to use the power of Oz to remind the spellbound what their true desires are. A way to clear the haze and become more objective,” he offered, eyes thoughtful.

Dorothy shook her head, eyes lowered to the floor, body hunched over in defeat.

“I care so much for Charlie. I never thought I would see her again. To return here, for me...”  She straightened, took a deep breath and moved toward the last door in the hallway.

“Dean,” Cas nodded at the door and they stopped.

Dean leaned in and placed his ear against the wood. He could hear murmuring and the distinct, ring of the witch’s laughter and Charlie’s pained moan. Fuck.

Shifting his body weight and palming his machete, Dean moved into a defensive stance, then lifted his eyebrows at Cas.

“Door?” Dean motioned at the wood.

Sam huffed a laugh before positioning himself next to Dean and Cas.

“Cheater.”

“Shuddup, Sammy,” Dean said cheerfully before waggling his eyebrows at his boyfriend again.

“I love it when you make an entrance, babe. Come on,” Dean said and Cas lifted a single brow before raising his foot and kicking the door off it’s hinges. Elphaba and four of her goons snapped their heads toward the commotion from across a vast room.

“Come to witness the demise of your precious Charlie, have you?” The witch shrieked. “Seize them!” Three guards rushed toward them, Elphaba lingering over Charlie, who was tied to a chair in the middle of the room, head drooping against her chest. Elphaba raised her head, dropped the Blade of Karr and Dean noted the sharp metal tip covered in Charlie’s blood. As if in slow motion, the witch lifted off the ground and began to fly toward them, sans broom, as if she were some sort of spectre. Behind her, Charlie slowly raised her head and brought her hands around to the front, dropping the ropes and stumbling to her feet. She bent to grab her Blade and pushed herself toward the closest guard, taking him down from behind with her knife at his throat. His attention back on Elphaba, Dean only had a split second to raise his hands before he felt a bolt of electricity rush through him, knocking him on his ass. Dazed, Dean scrambled to his feet, raising his weapon and charging at Elphaba, who flew directly toward him. She flung her hand out and sent bolts of lightning across the room, again and again, until he had no choice but to lunge toward the nearest corner as beams of light narrowly missed his head. He ducked and rolled right into Cas, who knocked over a table and pushed it across the floor to further guard Dean’s movements. Positioning himself behind it and the wall, Dean hissed at Cas to get his ass _over here_ , wishing out loud for his fucking shotgun as he surveyed the mayhem of the room from his vantage point. Castiel stepped over the body of an unlucky soldier who had the misfortune of getting one good swing on the angel with a long-handled steel mace before having Cas’ angel blade stuck in his gut and moved to Dean’s side. They watched Sam duck Elphaba’s fire and run toward them. On the other side of the wall, Elphaba shouted at them, voice high and manic.

“I have both your precious witches, boys! I have the Blade and the Book. Oz is mine! Leave now, and I may spare your lives,” Elphaba cackled and he could hear Charlie struggling, kicking and cursing at someone, probably that last guard they hadn’t gotten around to killing yet. Dorothy screamed and quieted, and Dean motioned to Sam and Cas to pocket their weapons.

“We’ve got to,” he began. Cas and Sam both nodded, lowering their blades.

“Alright, we’re coming out,” Dean drawled, raising his hands and turning the corner.

The scene before him caused Dean’s stomach to clench in cold fear as he tried desperately to figure out how they were all going to get out of Oz alive. Elphaba had Dorothy’s arms pinned, and she was unconscious, her head lolled to the side, eyes closed, her body drooping in the witch’s arms. A lone soldier stood to Elphaba’s side, holding Charlie’s own katana to her throat, grinning as they walked toward him. Dean watched as his friend stood, body rigid, hands at her sides, eyes wide, watching the three of them surrender.

“Let her go.”

“As you wish,” Elphaba motioned to her man and the soldier shoved Charlie to the ground between them, turning to his mistress and brandishing the katana and a grin.

“My queen?”

“Kill her,” she said, shoving Dorothy at the guard and turning her attention to the men.  The guard grabbed at Dorothy with one arm and grinned, both of them too busy gloating over their success to see Charlie sprint to them and stick the Blade of Karr directly into Elphaba’s chest. It sunk in to the hilt, and the witch howled, green light emitting from the wound briefly before it fizzled out and she dropped to the ground.

The soldier growled and flung Dorothy, who thudded to the ground. He thrust his body toward Charlie and swung the katana, catching her only a split second before Dean sliced his head off with the machete.

Simultaneously, Charlie and the nameless militia man all fell to the floor, and Dean skidded to his knees to where his friend went down. She was sliced open from the stomach to her chest, and she held onto the side of her neck as blood pumped out, through her fingers and onto the floor.

“Charlie!” Dean gasped, gathering her into his arms before she could fall to the ground. He looked at Cas with pleading eyes.

“Can you help her?”

Cas bent down to cradle Charlie’s face in his hands, light emanating from all around them, but she her eyes fell closed and head lolled as she dropped her hand from her neck and went limp.

“My healing abilities are contained, Dean. My grace won’t leave my body, I can’t...”

“Try harder!”

“I am trying, Dean,” Cas pleaded. “It’s not working. My grace is there, but I can’t seem to transfer it to her.”

“It’s the Karr,” Sam said, his voice breaking. “In Oz, that magic blocks all other types of supernatural ability. Even though it healed him, Cas' grace is contained inside and can’t escape to heal her,” he finished, kneeling down beside his brother and Cas, to reach his hand out to push shut Charlie’s lids over blank, staring eyes. He had the dust of Oz on his fingertips and mumbled an incantation, but she did not move. Dorothy struggled to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she moved toward them and tugged Charlie into her arms.

“No, no, not Charlie, please, no,” Dean, voice catching in his throat around a sob as he surveyed his bloodied clothes and the scene around them. There were bodies strewn across the room and all over the floor, blood pooling around the dead. He shook himself, head swimming and felt Cas’ grounding touch on his shoulder. Dean moved into the other man, allowing himself a moment of comfort from the one person who consistently offered it. Charlie had saved them all. She had saved Oz. With the witch dead, the militia would scatter. Without the threat of Elphaba’s powerful and dark version of Karr-al-Khan to threaten them, Munchkin, Glinda and the people of Oz were safe.

Sam watched the exchange silently, heaving a sigh as he flipped over Elphaba’s body to wrench Charlie’s knife out from the witch’s gut with a grunt. He wiped off the blade and sheathed it at Charlie’s side, allowing his training to take over and pushing his emotions back, for the time being.

“Elphaba’s forces are still around, but they don’t know she’s dead, yet,” he said, pulling a faded tapestry down from one of the stone walls. “We need to get out of here and across the border, before they come looking for us.”

He didn’t have to say out loud that soldiers without their leader would be vicious and desperate. Sam tossed the cloth to Dean who had disentangled himself from Cas and put his hunter-face back on. He caught it and motioned at the women on the floor.

“Dorothy,” Sam said gently, placing his hand on her shoulder. She startled and looked up at him, eyes glassy.

“We need to wrap Charlie up. Can you help us do that, Dorothy?”

The woman nodded, gently placing Charlie on the ground as she turned to Dean. He handed her one of the corners of the tapestry, with Sam and Cas holding the other two and they began the process of cleaning and swaddling Charlie’s dead body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some mentions of knife and blood play, torture and an eventual character death. I'm sorry :(


	7. There's No Place Like Home

Dorothy walked behind Cas, who carried Charlie draped across his arms. Although her body had been cleaned and wrapped carefully in the cloth, Dorothy didn’t stray far from Charlie’s side. Dean remembered his trek beside the Walker River and preparing to give Cas a hunter’s funeral. Saying _goodbye_ for the last time and _I love you_ for the first had hurt so damn much. After all they’d been through, the love they shared felt undeserved and precious every single day.

“But seriously, how are we gonna get out of here?” Dean inquired, breaking the silence.

“The Ruby Slippers will guide us through Oz. We must only follow the Yellow Brick Road,” Dorothy said, looking down at the shoes on her feet. “That’s how it works,” she shrugged. Dean had remembered the Ruby Slippers when he spotted Charlie’s bag on the way out of the church. The shoes were not the stiletto heels they once were. When Dorothy reached into Charlie’s bag to retrieve the shoes, she pulled out a pair of burgundy work boots, similar to the ones Cas received from Maylik. If Dean was being honest with himself, and he sure as hell was trying to these days, he kind of missed the sparkly ruby heels, but of course Maylik had promised to give them what they needed, not necessarily what they wanted.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Sam said suddenly spoke up, voice breaking through the somber quiet of the forest. Dorothy looked at him, eyes hard and disbelieving. Leave it to Sam to want to discuss feelings, but, Dean conceded, in this case, he was right.

“Yes, it is,” Dorothy sneered. “She never would have been here if it weren’t for me. She sacrificed herself for me. To save my life. To save Oz. This wasn’t even Charlie’s home yet she cared so much for the people here,” she continued. “I will make this right. I will make this mean something.”

“Oz became her home,” Dean interrupted, voice soft. “She found purpose here. She died for this place. If you gotta make this right, Dorothy, do it. But Charlie knew what she was fighting for, and what it might cost her. She was a hunter.” Dean heaved a shuddering breath, still not quite ready to wrap his mind around the fact that his friend was dead.

“Just,” he added. “Don’t let her have died in vain.”

“Charlie wanted freedom for all in Oz,” Cas inferred, ever the strategist. He eyed Dean for a moment, who shrugged, before turning a thoughtful gaze on Dorothy.

“You must see to it that the four countries unite once again. Together, you will be able to defeat the forces that rise against you. The magick here is strong and it is good and can be used to unify the people. That is what Charlie fought for.” Cas squeezed Charlie’s body tight to his chest and Dean felt a wave of sadness rush over him, threatening to drown him. He pushed it down deep, promising himself he’d return later, to mourn the loss of Charlie. She deserved all that and more. They would give her a hunter’s funeral, right here in Oz and she would be heralded as a hero. That was later. For now, they had a job to do.

The group continued in heavy silence, following the Yellow Brick Road the few miles to the border of Munchkin Country, where they stopped, ragged and worn from their journey. Dean expected to be met by Glinda’s forces, but what he did not expect was to meet Glinda herself. She was waiting for them, standing guard at a small, concrete structure where Munchkin Country and Emerald City met on the Road. Glinda didn’t look how Dean supposed she would--that is to say, she did not wear a pink ball gown or have fairy wings, a large crown and wand, nor did she float around in a bubble. No, Glinda looked like a soldier, in army green pants with a black tee and boots along with a short, military grade buzz cut to her blonde hair. When she saw the men and Dorothy, her face broke out into a sad smile and she led them off the path into the warmth and safety of the small shelter.

Cas laid Charlie’s shrouded body carefully down on a small cot in the building, while, at Glinda’s insistence, a munchkin named Manassa dished up bowls of warm chili and a loaf of bread for the travelers to share. He usually relished a good meal, but tonight, Dean shoveled the food into his mouth, chewing, swallowing, spooning the hot goop until it was gone, but not tasting a bite. The image of his friend, dead and bleeding out on the floor of that old church replayed itself behind his eyes every time he closed them. He wanted to swap stories with Sam and Cas about the time they power watched _The Lord of the Rings_ trilogy with Charlie in a single day, or all the nights she beat them all at board games. He wanted to blame someone, besides the dead witch, so that he could rage and drink and fall into that familiar buzz of pain and self-loathing that got him to the ripe-old age of 36. But, if he were being honest with himself, and he was trying to be, what he really wanted to do, was to lie in Cas’ arms, in the quiet of their room back at the bunker, and let the tears fall. Cas wouldn’t judge him, he wouldn’t do anything but hold Dean and let him cry, let him burn the world down, if that’s what he needed. Dean swallowed, once, twice, and felt both his brother and Cas turn their synchronized heads.

“M’ fine.”

Cas rested a hand on Dean’s knee, a gentle reminder of the comfort they now took in each other. Somehow, it was enough. Dean allowed the muscles in his shoulders, his back, his legs to relax and took a deep breath, then another.  He could hold it together, one day at a time, just like they talked about.

“Do you remember anything from your time with the Witch?” Glinda said to Dorothy from across the table. The question broke Dean from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Dorothy straightening her back as she met Glinda’s eyes. The energy within the room shifted in a palpable way, and he briefly wondered if he’d end up having to take Dorothy out. She’d been influenced by magic, but Sam had explained that the spell Elphaba used had latched onto dark desires that Dorothy already possessed. Perhaps it was time for Dorothy to leave Oz, for good, before she fucked up and and got somebody hurt, again.

“I do, a little,” Dorothy admitted. “It’s fuzzy, like remembering a dream.” The woman set her spoon and bowl down, looking around at each of them gathered around the table, all mourning Charlie in their own way.

“Elphaba knew I would do anything to help Oz and, with Charlie back in her universe, I,” she gazed off, as if searching for the right words in the ether. “Without Charlie, I was lost. I am lost. I loved her, and I don’t think she ever really knew how much. But she came back. She always did the right thing, when I needed her.” Dorothy sucked in a sharp breath, closed her eyes, squeezed them shut, as if she was trying to erase and block out a specific picture from her memory. Dean was pretty sure he knew the image, because he wished he’d never seen it, either; Charlie, covered in her own blood and the blood of her enemies, lifeless, finished, gone. He felt a wave of pity for the woman, and suddenly, wasn’t angry any more, only sad for her because he understood how much she’d lost in Charlie.

“I’ve got to see this through, Glinda. Charlie, she would have...she would have wanted me to do what’s right. I’ll take whatever punishment the Council deems necessary, but I will see Oz to freedom,” Dorothy finished, eyes glistening but head held high.

Glinda shook her head, defeated, and turned to Dean. When she looked at him, there were tears in her eyes. “You are Charlie’s family?”

Dean swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. “Yes ma’am.”

“This isn’t what I wanted to happen, Sir Winchesters, please believe me.”

“Charlie was a hunter. She knew the risks,” Dean murmured.

“What will you do with her?”

“We think she should have a hunter’s funeral. In Oz,” Cas added carefully, watching Dean blink, swallow, then nod in agreement.

“We have to burn her,” Dean sighed, hating to hear the words coming from his mouth, but needing to utter them, just the same. “It’s what she would have wanted.”

“We would be proud to have her laid to rest here with us,” Glinda acknowledged.

Dean nodded.

“The people will mourn her,” Glinda said.

“Everyone will come,” Dorothy agreed.

“She deserves it,” Sam added.

“And then, the three of us need to get home,” Dean said. “But how?” He turned to Glinda. “How do we get back to Kansas?”

“Oh Dean,” Glinda’s eyes softened as she gazed at him. He felt the emotion rising again, in the pit of his stomach, threatening to overwhelm him. “Maylik has already given you everything necessary to return.” She turned to Castiel, motioning to his shoes.

Dean scoffed. “It can’t be that easy. Not for us. It never is.”

“Those shoes will take Castiel and those that he loves to the place that he calls home.”

“I don’t wanna end up at the pearly gates, so is there any other…?” Dean bit out, allowing the familiar ache of abandonment momentarily replace the raw pain of Charlie’s death.

“Dean,” Cas interrupted. “My home is with you, in Kansas, at the bunker. Please, stop doing that. Stop doubting me. I’m not going anywhere,” Cas chastised, placing his hand on top of Dean’s, which laid, palm up, on the table. Dean watched as he laced their fingers together, squeezed, and offered Dean a slight smile of assurance. Defeated, Dean bowed his head, nodding as he glanced down at the shoes Castiel wore on his feet. They were nondescript, brown walking boots. They didn’t look very special nor did they seem to carry any magic. Although, Dean had learned over the years that enchanted objects usually didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary. Neither did Charlie, at first. She was just a geeky hacker who came into his life during a job and somehow wormed her way into his heart. There weren’t many people he truly cared about outside of his brother and his angel, but Charlie was one of them. She was special, and deserved to be honored here in Oz. This place held the quest she always dreamed of and here, they knew her as a hero.

“I’m sorry, I just...” he started.

Cas interrupted him, shaking his head. “I know.”

“We’ll bury her tomorrow, and then we’ll go home,” Sam spoke, voice full of raw sadness that made Dean shudder. Cas squeezed his hand.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, exhausted. “Home.”

The next morning, Dean, Cas, Sam, Dorothy and Glinda set out to a place called Moon River, a winding body of water that ran throughout Munchkin Country. It began at the place the Yellow Brick Road met the Sandy Desert, the very edges of Oz, and ran throughout the entire country, breaking up into different, smaller rivers and streams into every corner of land. At this point, the body of water was about 20 yards across, but Dorothy had told them it got as wide as a mile in some places. The path they had taken through the rocky landscape broke onto a small, sandy bank, which was stacked high with supplies to build a proper open-air pyre for Charlie’s service. Two large stacks of wood, four wooden-handled axes, oil, twine and hundreds of flowers lay piled on the sand, waiting for them when they arrived. The group had travelled for a few hours on the horses that Glinda provided, but when she offered them a chance to freshen up and rest, motioning to a tent set up in the middle of the flatlands, none of them accepted, not wanting to rest until the pyre stood, ready for their friend to be laid to rest.

Even after such a tiring journey, Dean relished the manual labor of putting together the wooden structure. He allowed the burn in his arms from chopping and lifting wood to distract him from the burning behind his eyes, the ache in his chest. Sam and Cas seemed to be doing the same, all of them silently working in tandem, until the pyre stood tall and intimidating, casting a dark shadow onto the shore of Moon River as the sun began to set low in the horizon. As they worked, the people trickled in, and by the time they finished, a crowd of at least a hundred people gathered on the shores of both sides of the river. A trail of of paper bags lined the banks of the river as far as Dean could see, the candles inside glowing orange in the light of a pink dusk. The same flowers that had earlier sat piled on the banks of the river, now covered and surrounded the pyre, a colorful addition accentuating the bleakness of the scene.

“It’s time,” Sam said from the other side of the closed tent door. Sam had cleaned up first and waited outside, talking in hushed voices with Charlie’s friends from across Oz while Dean and Cas bathed and dressed, pretending not to hear the worried voices on the other side of the thin cloth. Dean allowed himself to breakdown in the bath, tears streaking down his face as Cas sat, fully dressed and cross legged on the floor next to him. Long after the water had cooled, Dean finally rose, stone faced, and dressed, pulling on the dark, soft clothes Glinda had provided in silence. After lingering for at least an hour and with no more excuses to avoid the inevitable, Dean made his way to the doors of the tent, but Cas didn’t move.

“I don’t think I can do it, Dean,” Cas pronounced, hands on his face, feet frozen to the floor.

“She was so full of life. Her soul was so bright and now I can’t see anything. I can’t feel her and I know that it’s a strange thing to miss, but I,” he stuttered. ”I can’t help imagining how it would feel if it were Sam or,” he choked and Dean moved to him in one swift movement, wrapping his arms around Cas, allowing the other man to rest his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Dean murmured, rubbing comforting circles into Castiel’s back. The idea that Cas was mourning a human probably terrified and confused the angel. The only other person he’d been close to that had died was Bobby, and that was years ago, before Cas fell, before he’d lost his grace.

“Death makes humans think of our own mortality. This,” he waved his hand around the room. “It’s kinda what being human is all about, Cas. It’s why we find the people and things that makes us happy and hold on tight.” Cupping Cas’ face with strong, gentle hands, Dean met Cas’ eyes. They were so brilliant to him still, bright blue orbs under long, dark lashes. Today, though, those eyes shined with the pain of loss that Dean knew was mirrored in his own. “I’m alive. Sam’s alive. You’re alive,” he whispered. “We’re gonna say goodbye to our brave, ninja friend, and we’re gonna go home, okay?” He tried to laugh but it came out as a shuddering sigh. Dean buried his face in Cas’ hair, finding comfort in the familiar smell. Only with the other did each man allow himself to be weak. That in itself felt as terrifying as it did comforting, and in Cas’ arms, Dean took as much as he gave. To Dean, Cas’ arms felt like coming come. The pair stood in the quiet, taking deep, synchronized breaths, as they prepared to face the crowd together. To be strong for those who needed them to be, including Sam and Charlie.

By the time they stepped out of the tent, the sun had fully set. Sam stood outside the tent, perched on a rotting log, forgotten Book of Spells in his hands as he stared out at the river. When Sam heard them come out of the tent, he looked up face dark, eyes red with unshed tears and all Dean could see was the little boy he’d comforted through every scrape and bloody battle since they were kids. Dean strode up to his brother and tugged him into a tight hug, squeezing Sam and the book against his chest.

“We can do this,” he said. A crowd of people gathered around the wooden structure, and, when the Winchesters began to move toward the pyre, so did the other attendees.

Sam sucked in a breath. “I never thought we’d have to. If I could have gotten to Charlie sooner, maybe I could have used the Karr…”

“No way, Sammy, this isn’t on you. This isn’t on any of us.” He hoped that saying the words out loud would help lift the weight of guilt he knew lay on all their shoulders. “Elphaba kidnapped Dorothy and killed Charlie and now the witch is dead. The job is done.” He nudged his brother to move and the three of them continued through the crowd until they stood at the edge of the flowers, at the foot of the pyre. Dean pulled a set of matches from his inside jacket pocket as he looked across the wooden structure at Dorothy, who stood next to Glinda, tears streaming down her face. She nodded at him and Dean noted the signal, lit a match and tossed it onto the oil-soaked wood. It caught immediately and the air began to fill with dark smoke and the scent of flowers. He moved back to stand between Sam and Cas and placed a hand on each of their shoulders, a light squeeze for Cas and a gentle pressure for Sam. The crowd pressed back as the flames flickered and licked at the night sky, rising and spreading through the wood, until finally, Charlie’s shrouded body began to burn. Glinda began to speak, but to Dean her words were drowned out by the crackling sounds of the fire and the dull whisper of Cas’ voice next to him, speaking words only Dean could hear.

“I want to go home,” Cas wished and suddenly everything went black. Dean’s feet swept out from underneath him, but he could still feel the pressure of his brother and the angel as the void overtook them.

When he could discern colors again, Dean realized he was standing on the floor in the middle of the war room. It looked exactly how they left it, which is to say, papers and books were strewn all over the place, from the impromptu tornado that carried them to Oz only the week before.

“How…?” Sam stuttered, looking around the room.

They were back in the bunker. They were back in the bunker, in their own clothes, their duffel bags and weapons sitting neatly at their feet, the Book of Spells nowhere to be seen. They were standing in a semicircle, in the middle of the war room, in Lebanon, Kansas, also known as, their own goddamn universe and his brother and his partner were both alive and Charlie was dead but they had survived, which was a shitty thing to feel good about, but Dean couldn’t help the relief that flooded through him.

“Thank fuck,” Dean exclaimed, flopping down into one of the wooden chairs. His brother headed to the kitchen, hopefully for beer and maybe a grilled cheese sandwich, while Cas stood above him, staring at the floor.

“Come on, we’re safe, we made it. Take a load off, Cas,” Dean insisted, bending over to unlace his boots. For once, his feet didn’t hurt after a hunt, and he really hoped Maylik’s boots lasted at least as long as his Timberlands.

“It was the shoes,” Cas started. Dean looked up at Cas as he toed off his boots, a frown on his face.

“Huh?”

“When the fire started, all I could think was that I wanted us to be able to mourn the loss to our little family. I thought about being back at the Bunker. Of us lying together in our bed, sipping coffee in the kitchen, of running with Sam in the woods and, suddenly…” he trailed off. “I glanced at the shoes and I asked.”

Reaching out, Dean tugged Cas into his lap and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in Cas’ t-shirt.

“What’dya ask for?” he asked, voice muffled.

Cas moved back and looked at him thoughtfully, eyes bearing down on Dean, making him feel so damn exposed, his chest ached. But he was getting used to it, the fact that Cas knew him so intimately and loved him, regardless. He was getting used to having Cas around and he felt a swell of pride for the space they’d created together. Neither one of them had given up on the other, not ever, and it felt damn good. Somehow, it didn’t feel foolish to want him there; Cas by his side, wherever the journey took them.

Dean thought it felt a lot like hope.

His gaze never wavering, Cas bent down to kiss Dean. In his lips, Dean tasted promises of forever love and constant forgiveness and all the things he wanted to horde close to him for the rest of his life. Softening the kiss, Cas breathed against Dean’s mouth and the warm air tickled his lips when Cas spoke.

“I wanted to go home.”

 ******THE END**

** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it to the end of my little story! Thank you for reading. I hope that this did Charlie Bradbury, general purveyor of badassery, justice, unlike those ASSHATS who wrote her last episode on Supernatural. If you liked it, leave me a comment and let me know what worked for you. Comments and kudos are always welcome!  
> xoxo  
> Diva


	8. Art by Jazzy2May

 


	9. Thanks and Stuff

While this is part 3 of the Seasons!Verse, it can be read as a standalone. All you need to know is that D/C are in an established relationship.

Here goes my Oscar-worthy speech!

Thank you to Aquielle, the Collectress and Jacksqueen16 for reading and rereading, commenting and cheering me on with this story! I had such a difficult time finding inspiration for this fic after THAT SHOW did what THAT SHOW does, but you three helped me sift through my feelings and use them to write a story highlighting what I love about Sam, Dean, Cas and Charlie.

Aquielle--you have been there since day one, helping me formulate ideas and find the magic in Oz, sending me encouragement and keeping me pushing forward, even when I wasn't sure if I should. I appreciate you and your constant support.

Collectress and Spaniard, you two forced me out of my comfort zone, which consists of innumerable stubbled jawlines, soft kisses, eye rolls, pauses and many, many adverbs--and I love you for it.

Thank you.

To my DSB friends, BLESS YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT. Chapter 4 is for you *wink wink*.

Also, I want to give a shout out to my artist, Jazzy2May, who picked me up when my first artist bailed on me suddenly! You may find the artwork for "The Place That You Call Home" on LJ [here](http://jazzy2may.livejournal.com/tag/2015%20dcbb) and in Chapter 8.

To my readers--I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love these characters so much, and wanted to take them to Oz, to explore this land of magic and wonder with a distinctly Winchester eye. There is a prologue to this story and some art work on Tumblr that I want to share with you, but isn't mandatory knowledge for reading this particular piece. If you're interested, you can find it on my [Tumblr page](http://whothehellisdiva.tumblr.com/tagged/the-place-that-you-call-home) If you're feeling kind, please leave a comment and let me know what worked for you (or what didn't) in this piece.

Comments, Kudos and words of encouragement are highly appreciated!

As always, I do not own these characters, I simply vow to love them with all my heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me over on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/collectivadiva) or on [Tumblr](http://whothehellisdiva.tumblr.com) for more of the same or check out the [Destiel Smut Brigade ](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Destiel_Smut_Brigade_30_Day_Challenge) for some really great stuff by some amazing writers.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Banner and Cover Art for C.Diva by Jazzy2may](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5223266) by [jazzy2may](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzy2may/pseuds/jazzy2may)




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